Mountain Creek
by JillRJohnson
Summary: AU story about a different Brooke and Peyton. Read to find out what it's about...I think it'll be worth it! Potentially Breyton...
1. Their Beginnings

Author's Note: This is a story I've been dreaming about for a few years. It's going to eventually be a novel but I thought I'd try it out as Breyton fan fiction first. This will be completely AU from One Tree Hill. I will be using a few of the characters but the main two will be Brooke and Peyton. They won't even meet until a third of the way through the story, because I have to build their backgrounds first. Other characters will make appearances, some more prominent than others, but not in the capacity of the show. Just as a heads up the chapters are already outlined…I just have to write them. There will be 37 chapters with an ending that will certainly leave room for a sequel if it's well-received. Again…this is AU. I really hope y'all like it. 

_**Mountain Creek**_

Chapter One

The Beginning of Brooke Davis

The blue car with one hubcap and one headlight sat on the side of a pothole-filled road in backwoods Alabama. Rain pounded the rusted roof of the old beat up Chevy. Victoria "Vicky" Davis yelled in pain as delivery became imminent. Her five year old daughter knelt backwards in the front seat watching the commotion in the back seat.

"Mommy, mommy, are you okay?" Her little dirt-smeared face was etched in worry.

"Yeah, Lisa, sweetie pie, mommy's busy having a baby right now, but when this is all over, you and me will go see that movie we were talking about, okay?"

The little girl nodded as, once again, Vicky moaned with pain. She took her brown eyes off her mother and looked at the man in the blue mechanic's shirt that was getting ready to help deliver the baby. She stared intently at the events unfolding before her.

"Okay, now Vicky, one last push ought to do it," Keith Scott was acting as emergency obstetrician. Vicky couldn't remember when he had appeared, just that he had. His hands were steady although his eyes were wide with apprehension.

A small, satisfied smile crossed Keith's face as Vicky pushed one last time and a small head covered with dark brown hair emerged. Keith delicately pulled and maneuvered until finally the entire body of the tiny baby girl was free.

"It's a girl," Keith beamed, "Vicky, you did it. It's a girl."

He looked at Vicky. As he held the screaming newborn girl in one hand, he brushed Vicky's own chestnut locks from her eyes and realized that the young woman was unconscious.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Vicky blinked, and then blinked again until the fuzzy white above her cleared and revealed a clear bright light. She knew she wasn't in Heaven because she didn't believe in such a place. She quickly recognized the rectangle light patterns. She was at the Prattville Memorial Hospital, a small, but capable hospital which she had visited on more than one occasion when she had been married to Lisa's father.

She groaned as she tried to remember how she had gotten there. She remembered going into labor. She remembered trying to drive herself and Lisa to the hospital. She remembered the pouring rain. She remembered being in so much pain that she had to pull over. And finally she remembered Keith Scott's strange hazel eyes.

She had gotten lost in those eyes many times, trying to decipher the blue from the green, the brown from the blue. She had stared into those eyes, the rain noisily falling to the earth behind him, and then there was blackness.

She allowed her eyes to focus a little more before she took in the room around her. A nurse was standing over her smiling a genuine grin.

"Hello Ms. Davis," her voice was like sunshine, "Good to see you awake."

The sunshine grated on Vicky's nerves, like loud noises on a hangover day. She looked around the room before speaking.

"Where's my daughter?"

The nurse patted Vicky's arm, "She's fine. She's all bundled up in the nursery."

"No, I mean Lisa. My older daughter."

The nurse seemed a bit surprised but did not falter, "She's fine too, of course, Ms. Davis. She's in the cafeteria with the other nurse. I'll go get them. Would you like me to bring your new daughter to you as well?"

"I guess," Vicky spoke with no emotions.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Keith Scott looked over the baby girl one more time. Her eyes were beautifully familiar. Rich earth tones mixed with blue skies and green fields in the midst of those eyes. Her cheeks were rosy pink, and her hair, deep, dark brown, like the rich soil of the harvest.

She looked like a perfect little angel. His eyes grew misty as he handed the little girl back to the nurse and backed out of the small nursery. The little girl was the only child in the nursery and all the workers were fawning over her beauty.

Keith felt pride well up in him but stopped before it grew too big. He silently prayed for the little girl as he walked toward the exit. He knew he would probably never see her again and he knew that the Heavenly Father would watch over her better than he ever could.

The hospital door closed behind him, separating him from the only true thing he had ever known.

XXXXXXXX

Lisa and the baby arrived to the room at the same time. Vicky immediately hugged her older daughter and spoke to her before taking the newborn from the nurse's arms.

"She's the most beautiful baby I've ever seen," the nurse complimented.

Vicky said nothing to the older nurse, choosing to ignore her instead. She looked over the tiny legs and arms of her baby, not like a proud mom but more like a judge at a horse show. Her skin was perfect like a china doll and her eyes were alert, seeking all the world had to offer. Vicky could not deny that this was the most beautiful newborn she had ever seen, and Vicky hated it with all her might.

The nurse left without another word. Vicky continued to look over her infant daughter. She felt resentment, jealousy, and burden when she looked into those beautiful big eyes that were searching only for unconditional love. She glanced at her other daughter, Lisa, a self-sufficient five-year-old, and smiled with crooked teeth.

"Don't worry Lisa, baby, you're still my favorite."

The little girl smiled and Vicky felt as though she was looking at a reflection of herself, crooked teeth and all. She knew that Lisa looked just like her, but the newborn, she would end up looking just like her father, gorgeous and angelic.

Already Vicky felt the walls closing in on her. She knew she could never love the new girl like she loved Lisa. She decided that she would at least try to love her, the way a woman tries to grow accustomed to new drapes or carpet.

The door opened and the nurse came back in holding a bottle, "Ms. Davis, would you like to feed your baby girl?"

Vicky Davis shrugged. She found it hard to even want to form a single connection with the tiny being in her arms, "Nah, that's okay. You go ahead and take her back to the nursery. As it is I'll have to feed her enough when we get home."

The nurse flinched slightly at the callousness of the woman. She gently scooped up the baby from Vicky and allowed her heart to feel sympathy for the obviously unloved infant. She shut the door behind her and walked down the hall to the nursery.

She settled the small infant into a bassinet and began to speak with the other nurses, "This child's mother is absolutely horrid. I wish there was a way to prove that a mother will be awful before a baby ever has to go home with her."

An older nurse smiled gently, "It's hard, I know, but perhaps God will look after her and she'll grow up to be something bigger and better than her trashy mom."

XXXXXXXXXX

Vicky was trying to come up with a name for the birth certificate that the registrar was trying to fill out. The man was growing ever impatient with the raven-haired woman, "Ms. Davis, surely you have thought about this before now?"

Vicky hadn't thought about it. She had mostly ignored her pregnancy hoping it would all just disappear, but she hadn't. She was strong and beautiful and kicking her tiny legs out in a bassinet near her bed. She was just two days old and it was time to take her home…but first, she had to pick a name.

She thought about Keith Scott. He was, after all, her father. He had wanted to name her Brooke. It was just a name he'd always loved. Vicky could care less. She eyed the registrar with an utter lack of concern.

"Brooke Penelope Davis," She finally muttered. Penelope had been her grandmother, the last person who had shown her any kindness.

The registrar let out a sigh, "Thank you Ms. Davis. That wasn't so hard was it?"

Vicky rolled her eyes and ignored the man as he picked up his briefcase and moved toward the bassinet, "Good luck to you, you beautiful little angel."

Vicky was growing more and more exhausted with everyone calling the baby an angel. As far as Vicky was concerned, Brooke was no gift from God. She moved from the bed to where baby Brooke was already cooing and kicking her feet. Vicky could tell just by looking at her that she was already more advanced than Lisa had been as a newborn. She knew that Brooke would be an easygoing child. She had barely cried since coming into the world. Vicky was discomfited by the seemingly angelic quality of the already odd hazel eyes. She wondered if the color of her eyes would stay like that, or if they would change to the dark almost black brown that she and Lisa shared.

Lisa, who had been sitting quietly in the corner of the room coloring, made her way to her mother, "Do we have to take her home?"

Vicky grinned, "Yup. But don't you worry little bit, she won't have no bearing on you."

The Beginning of Peyton Sawyer

Lillian Sawyer moaned dramatically as her husband, Lawrence Sawyer the Third followed the orderly who was pushing the wheelchair into Cedar-Sanai Medical Facility. Los Angeles was buzzing with the afternoon traffic and the sun was shining bright. Lillian and Lawrence were nervous and first time parents, but nervous for all the wrong reasons.

"I'm telling you right now," Lillian spat out, "I want a C-Section. I don't want to push this child out risking any misshaping of my body. I can get a plastic surgeon to cover the scar later. It's the late 80s for heaven's sake, there are plenty of procedures the doctor can do that won't affect my body.

Lawrence aka Larry Sawyer rolled his eyes behind his wife's back, "Honestly Lillian, is that all you're worried about?"

Lillian smirked through a contraction, "Of course not, darling, I hope the baby is at least as half as pretty as me."

She laughed and the orderly frowned. He could tell that they weren't that concerned with the baby that was imminent. He tried to make small talk, "What have you folks decided to name your baby?"

"Peyton Elizabeth," Larry answered, "After my father and Lillian's mother."

"That's nice," the orderly finally stopped outside of the delivery room. He helped the blonde haired beauty out of her wheelchair and into the bed.

Lillian surveyed the room appreciatively, "Amazing what money can buy you."

"Fortunately for me we have more than enough otherwise you'd shop us to poorness," Larry laughed.

"Won't Ella Franklin be so jealous of the nursery? And that ugly child of hers…I can only pray that this little girl will put hers to shame."

Larry ignored his wife as he eyed a candy striper that had brought in extra sheets and a hospital gown for Mrs. Sawyer. Lillian was too self-involved to notice the way her husband looked at other women. Larry looked back at his wife and found it amazing that she could even carry a child as thin as she was. But that was life with a model.

Larry moved from her bedside as she continued to ramble on about materialistic things, "Honey, I'll be back in a few minutes. I'm going to go find the doctor."

"That's fine sweetheart, just make sure the doctor knows I want all the drugs they can give me."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Lillian was completely unconscious, blissful with concoctions of medication, when they removed the little girl from her body. Larry Sawyer was in a supply closet with the teenage candy striper. A nurse carefully held the screaming baby girl and carried her to the weight table.

She took the necessary vitals and then escorted the tiny girl to the Neonatal Unit where she proceeded with washing away the debris of the womb. Instantly the nurse began to smile at the baby's beauty. Her skin was pale, she had a head full of curls and she had blonde highlights.

"My goodness you're beautiful," the nurse cooed to the newborn.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Larry held Peyton before Lillian woke up. He stared at the baby girl and smiled, "Hello baby girl. Welcome to the world. Don't worry, you'll be well taken care of right down to the silver spoon in your mouth."

His words were part sincere, and part sarcastic. He knew that loving the baby girl would be impossible because he knew that there was no way he was the father. He had been diagnosed as infertile several years earlier. He had not told Lillian, and was not exactly surprised when she came up as pregnant. She was as much unfaithful as he was.

He glanced at Lillian as she began to wake up and shake off the fog, "Look Peyton, your mommy is beginning to wake up."

"Ugh," Lillian groaned, "Must we call me mommy? Can't I be mother, or even Lillian? I'm too young to be a mommy."

"You're 22, Lillian dear, you're not that young."

Larry handed the baby girl to Lillian. Lillian studied her closely and smiled satisfied, "She's perfect, isn't she? Everyone will be so envious of how beautiful our little girl will be."

Larry smirked, "Wonderful, maybe we can put her up on the mantle next to my trophies and awards?"

"Don't be silly, Lawrence," Lillian matched his smirk, "She's too pretty to fit into the décor of that room."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Larry had disappeared again for some meeting or another. Lillian was alone with Peyton. She stared at her and tried to feel what it was that every new mom was supposed to feel. She felt detached and void of any real emotion for her daughter. She looked at Peyton as a prize or a possession. She was happy to have her, but she knew 

she didn't really want to take care of her.

"Will you be breastfeeding?" Then nurse asked sweetly.

Lillian laughed, "Oh hell no. I wouldn't think of ruining these gorgeous things."

She indicated her breasts. The nurse smiled until she realized that Mrs. Sawyer was serious. She shook her head and looked at the infant in Lillian's arms.

"Maybe you should consider how beneficial it would be for your daughter," The nurse suggested.

Lillian snapped cold blue eyes to the nurse, "You should mind your own business. Your superior will be hearing about your rudeness."

"Yes ma'am," the nurse muttered, "I apologize."

"You're dismissed," Lillian said coldly as she returned her gaze to Peyton adoring her like a woman adores diamonds.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Lillian laid Peyton down on the silk receiving blanket in a mahogany crib. They were finally home. Larry was at another meeting. Lillian knew where he most likely was. She turned to the older woman standing beside her.

"Okay, your duties as her nanny will be to give her every feeding and attend to her every need. Basically you will be this child's mother except when we have company. I need everyone to think I'm absolutely perfect at motherhood."

The nanny smiled and nodded dutifully. Lillian smiled back a gorgeous perfect teeth smile, "Great. Now I need to go lie down. I'm exhausted from all this brouhaha."

The nanny waited until Lillian had disappeared from the wing where the nursery was located. She scooped up Peyton and held her close as she sat down on the rocker.

"Don't you worry blondie, Nanny Deb is going to take very good care of you." She let her finger linger on a curl on the baby girl's head. "As long as I'm around, you'll always know love. That mother of yours, she doesn't know what she's missing, huh?"

She snuggled the baby closer and rocked her gently. She took in her green eyes and blonde hair and knew she was holding a precious gift, she just wished that the Sawyers could see it that way.


	2. Childhood

Chapter 2

Childhood with an Alcoholic Mother

The five-year-old Brooke Davis quietly slipped off the couch. She looked back sadly at her mother who had passed out on the couch again. Lisa was three trailers down playing with the neighborhood boys. Brooke loved her sister dearly but even at five knew they had nothing in common.

Her jeans had holes in them and her shirt was dirty. She didn't even notice. She stepped silently into the kitchen and looked back fearfully at her mother. She was still snoring. Brooke could smell the drink that had spilled on the floor after Vicky Davis had finally passed out after one rant after another.

Brooke's little hand reached up and opened the refrigerator. She couldn't decide what she wanted to eat. She looked over the five items on the shelves. Milk that was a week beyond the due date, a leftover half of a McDonald's hamburger, Vodka, mayonnaise and a jar of pickles.

Her tiny stomach growled on her thin body. Malnourishment would have been the first word out of a social worker's mouth, had anyone ever bothered to look out for the small child. She licked her lips and looked up at the hamburger. She knew it was Lisa's but she was starving.

She quickly grabbed it off the shelf and unwrapped it. She placed the cold bread against her teeth and bit down. The taste was satisfying to her hunger. She continued to eat until the half was completely gone.

She was sitting on the kitchen floor wondering what other little girls her age did on a Saturday afternoon. She had spent the entire day watching cartoons and listening to her mother snore. As mean as Vicky was to her, she still loved her. She was, after all, her mommy.

The door to the messy trailer swung open and banged against the wall. Brooke jumped, startled by the sudden break in solitude. She heard her mother groan as she began to rise from drunkenness into hangover. Lisa was standing in the doorway.

Her ten year old voice was loud and obnoxious, "Mom! I'm hungry."

"Well, Lisa, why don't you eat the other half of that hamburger I got you last night."

Brooke looked down at the wrapper in her hand and swallowed the fear rising. Vicky and Lisa could not see her position behind the counter; although they knew where she was the instant they heard her apologetic sobs. Brooke closed out the world beyond her because for two years, since turning three, she had been receiving whippings for the smallest things…and taking something that belonged to Lisa, was not a small thing.

Lisa was the first around the counter. She wanted to feel sorry for her little sister, but she would rather be on Vicky's side when things got ugly, "Mom! The little brat ate my hamburger!"

Vicky stormed to where Lisa stood looking down at the raven haired, angelic face, "Brooke! How dare you take your sister's food! You are in big trouble. Don't you remember why you didn't get a Happy Meal last night?"

Brooke nodded, although she still wasn't sure why she had been in trouble. Vicky's voice grew almost joyful at the prospect of Brooke messing up, "That's right, you were mean to your big sister."

Brooke wanted to look up and protest. She wanted to tell Vicky that it was Lisa that had smacked her across the back of the head. Brooke had only pushed back because she had been furious and fed up with being treated unkindly.

"I…I…I'm sorry, Mommy," Brooke managed to mutter between cries.

Vicky shrugged, "You know what. I'm too tired to deal with this right now. Expect punishment later Brooke."

Brooke swiped at her running nose with the back of her small hand, "Yes ma'am."

Lisa stuck her tongue at her and grabbed the jar of pickles from the refrigerator as Vicky disappeared into the bedroom at the other side of the trailer. Lisa snarled at the beautiful Brooke, "I hope you get sick from it you stupid brat."

XXXXXXXXXX

Ten was harder than five. Brooke looked at the bruise on her wrist. Another raging fit of her drunk mother had left her marked again. This time Brooke had merely asked if her mother was going to be alright. As a ten-year-old Brooke had an incredibly forgiving heart and a very generous soul. Her voice was soft and always careful, her short stature leaving her vulnerable to a rather violent world.

Lisa was now a teenager, fifteen, and rarely home. Brooke was mostly glad about it because Lisa only made more trouble for Brooke by lying and saying she had done something wrong when she hadn't.

Brooke silently picked up the vodka bottles from the floor and slid them noiselessly into the garbage can. Once again, Vicky Davis was asleep on the couch. Brooke was so used to the conditions that she lived in that she rarely noticed the chaos that surrounded her.

She got her two Barbie Dolls from the room she shared with her sister and snuck quietly outside. She closed the door behind her without a sound and walked to the trailer park playground. She stared up quietly at the rusted metal swingset and sat down on an old railroad tie that served as a border to the park.

She began to comb the dolls' hair when she heard something behind her. Her small body froze in fear expecting to be snatched off the ground by her mother. Instead, a frame, as thin and small as hers sat beside her. It was a boy with spiked hair and a big grin.

He nodded at Brooke, "My name's Marvin, what's yours?"

Brooke wasn't used to talking to people her own age. At school she always avoided the other students because she was always trying to hide one bruise or another and was always afraid she'd break down into tears if she did speak. But something about this boy was different.

"My…my name is Brooke," she finally said, timidly.

Marvin held out his small hand to shake Brooke's. She took it and shook it. She couldn't help but smile at him, "I've never seen you around here before."

"We just moved here from Florida. I'll be starting school tomorrow."

Brooke remembered that tomorrow was Monday. She loved Mondays. She loved school. Even though she didn't talk to many people there, she at least always knew she was safe there. Brooke studied Marvin's face. He was still grinning and she realized that his smile took up most of the room on his face.

"Do you like your name?" Brooke asked.

Marvin shrugged, "I dunno. I guess. I'd like a cooler name more."

Brooke chewed on her bottom lip pensively staring at him, "I'm going to call you Mouth from now on. Would that be okay?"

Marvin thought about it for a few seconds before looking at Brooke again, "Why would you want to call me Mouth?"

"Because your smile is so big and brightens up everything," Brooke answered honestly.

Marvin's smile increased further, "Then I like it. Mouth McFadden."

Brooke nodded and giggled, "Mouth McFadden."

"So, want to swing?" Mouth asked her.

Brooke placed her dolls down on the ground and raced Mouth to the swing. As they began to swing and laugh Brooke wondered if it was possible, really possible that she had found a friend. Just as she was about to embrace the idea, her mother appeared suddenly.

Brooke stopped swinging and her heart began to pound. She knew her mother was going to make a scene, a big scene. She didn't have time to say goodbye to Mouth before her mother jerked her off the playground by her thin arm. She glanced at the trees and the sidewalk and the sky as she was dragged back to their trailer. She wondered if she would ever get to see Mouth again. She wondered if she would live long enough to see anyone again.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Brooke was twelve years old and she and Mouth McFadden had been best friends for two years. She had told him everything about her mother and sister and their miserable life at the trailer park. She had often taken refuge at the McFadden trailer. Mouth's mother and father were so different than anything she knew. They laughed together and cooked together and sang together. Mouth even had cable television.

One summer afternoon after eating lunch with Mouth's mother and Mouth, Brooke went back home filled with questions and worries. She found her mother in a rare sober moment and sat down next to her. Vicky even placed and arm around Brooke almost lovingly. It was these moments that Brooke craved and cherished, though they were few and far between.

Brooke got up the courage to finally ask her mom some of the questions that had bothered her for so long, "Mom, how did my dad die?"

Vicky moved her arm from Brooke's shoulder and crossed them over her chest, "Why do you need to know that?"

Brooke shrugged sensing the change in her mother's demeanor, "I don't know. I guess I was just wondering is all."

Vicky shook her head, "Don't you worry about your worthless father, Brooke. He was a good for nothing son of a bitch who didn't care about anyone but himself."

Brooke flinched at the comment because Vicky often told Brooke she was just like her father. And seeing that Vicky and Lisa were almost identical, it didn't help that she must look just like her father as well.

"What was his name?" Brooke pressed.

"I don't want to talk about this," Vicky stood up from the couch and moved toward the bathroom, "I've got to get ready for the night shift."

She shut the door behind her and Brooke heard water running. She turned off the TV and sat quietly thinking about her life. She knew that she didn't have it as good as most people. She now knew from school and television that she was abused and neglected. But Brooke never felt sorry for herself. She always worried about her mother and her sister.

As if on cue, Lisa walked through the front door, "Hey little brat, what's going on?"

Brooke shrugged and looked at her big sister. Lisa had dropped out of school the year before and started working at the grocery store. Brooke could tell that Lisa was quickly becoming Vicky part 2.

The only difference was that Lisa sometimes cared, "You look sad Brookie. I mean, sadder than usual. Is the beast at it again?"

Brooke shook her head no, "She's actually in a halfway decent mood."

"It's because she's dating some new guy from work," Lisa informed.

Brooke didn't really care. Vicky was somehow smart enough to keep the men she dated away from the trailer and therefore kept potential danger away from her girls. Brooke could be thankful for that at least.

"So what's the problem?" Lisa needled after a few moments of silence from the younger girl.

"I was just wondering…curious I guess, about dad."

"Your dad," Lisa smiled, "We don't even know who my dad is."

Lisa wasn't in the least bitter about it. Brooke wondered how Lisa was always so jovial about the subject of fathers when she couldn't even claim one.

"Do you know who my dad was?"

Lisa looked thoughtfully at the blank TV, "I vaguely recall him, but then he was gone. Mom said he died. Beats me."

Lisa got up and walked toward their room, "I'm going to take a nap. Try keeping it quiet out here, won't you?"

Brooke nodded. Thoughts of her father waned as new thoughts about love and affection arose. The McFadden's were affectionate people and Mrs. McFadden hugged her every time she saw her. Mr. McFadden always tousled her hair when he walked by her. She tried to recall a time when she had ever received a hug from her mother or sister, but couldn't remember a single one. Brooke Davis was utterly alone in the Davis trailer.

A Lonely Childhood

Her beautiful blonde curls shook as she cried. She and Nanny Deb had looked everywhere for the teddy bear and had yet to find it.

"Peyton, baby, maybe we should ask your mother if she's seen it," Deb said as she wiped away a stray tear from the sad and lonely little girl. She had seen it a dozen times in the children she had mothered for others. Her parents were distant and cold, only holding her and showing her affection while guests looked on. Peyton adored her mother and father but got no adoration in return. It broke Deb's heart to have to see such a beautiful child so sad.

"Nanny Deb," Peyton whispered as she looked to the only woman she had ever known as a caregiver, "We can't tell my mother. She will take Comet away."

Deb knew the child was right, but they had exhausted all other avenues having spent several hours searching the large house for the brown teddy bear, "It'll be okay Peyton, you'll see."

They sought out Lillian which turned out to be almost as difficult as finding the bear. They finally found her lounging by the pool in a skimpy black two piece bikini. Peyton bounded over to her mother, a small smile on her face. Her tiny shadow fell across her mother's face.

Lillian pushed Peyton aside with her hand not even noticing the tear streaked cheeks, "You're blocking my light darling."

Deb couldn't help but roll her eyes, "Ma'am, Peyton cannot find Comet bear and we were wondering if you might have seen him somewhere."

Peyton smiled at Deb and then her mother. Lillian sat up slightly as though burdened by the question, "That ratty old bear she's been carrying around for several years?"

"Nanny Deb bought it for me for my third birthday," Peyton grinned proudly, "I love it."

Lillian looked disapprovingly from Peyton to Deb and back again, "Yes, well…now you're five. You don't need that stupid bear. I threw it in the garbage. Mommy will take you to the toy store later and you can replace it."

Peyton began to cry, "I hate you! I hate you Mother."

She ran away into the house. Deb knew what was coming. It always came when mothers realized their children loved the nanny more than their own mother. She waited patiently for it.

"You're fired," Lillian spoke coldly as she slid her sunglasses back down over her eyes, "Don't bother saying goodbye."

Deb returned to the house and immediately went through all the trash cans. It was easy to find the bear after hearing of its whereabouts from Mrs. Sawyer. It was in the trash can beside the Sawyer's bed. She placed it on Peyton's bed, knowing it was best to leave without saying goodbye. The children never understood goodbyes.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She loved the way the gum popped and snapped and drove Lillian insane. She was 12 years old and had access to anything she wanted, but pure boredom and contempt for her parents were the driving force behind her purposeful bad behavior.

"Peyton Elizabeth Sawyer, if you pop that gum again I will send you to your room for a month." Lillian snapped finally.

Larry laughed from across the room as he fixed himself some more brandy and downed a few pills with it, "Lillian, don't you think that sending her to her room is a bit idiotic since she's got every gadget known to man in there?"

Lillian shrugged, "I don't know, isn't this how parents work, they discipline their kids when they are annoying."

Peyton didn't hear anymore as she had already left the room. They were rarely in the same room together and to Peyton it just didn't feel natural to have to breathe the same air they did. She closed her door and turned on the radio. Music was her solace.

She leaned back on her bed and stared at the ceiling wondering when she would meet someone that she could care about. She had no friends, at least none that weren't bought and paid for. The song was "Meet Virginia" by Train. Peyton smiled at the lyrics and wished she could meet Virginia. She sounded like fun to Peyton.

It was then that Peyton knew what she wanted out of her short life…fun. It was also that afternoon that she took her first drink. Her father's brandy was sitting there and she tasted it and then drank it and then guzzled it. She was drunk before she knew it.

She gazed out of her bedroom window as the brandy settled into every cell of her body. She ignored the trees and cars in the driveway that seemed to be moving in dizzying circles. She spotted Mr. James, the maintenance man the Sawyers hired to fix anything that needed to be fixed. Peyton had watched him work many times, choosing to hang out with those that served the Sawyers rather than the Sawyers themselves.

She focused her blurred vision and saw a short girl helping Mr. James wash the cars. Peyton's curiosity was peaked. She stumbled toward her bedroom door and prayed she did not run into her parents along the way.

Several minutes later she had made it to the driveway without incident. Her stomach churned with lack of food and consumption of alcohol. She walked in an almost zigzagged pattern to the spot where Mr. James and the young brunette were waxing Mrs. Sawyer's Porsche.

Peyton hated that car. She stood quietly swaying side to side as she strove to maintain her balance. Mr. James was the first to notice her standing there.

"Good afternoon, Peyton. How are you?" Mr. James eyed the girl carefully already smelling the liquor.

Peyton shrugged, "Fine."

She hoped her words weren't as slurred as they were in her head, "Who's that?"

She pointed to the girl. The girl looked at Mr. James and Mr. James shook his head, "Peyton, this is my daughter, Haley."

"Hi Haley," Peyton managed to speak. She looked the girl over carefully in her blue jeans and t-shirt. She was just a normal average girl. "How old are you?"

"Twelve," Haley answered not in the least intimidated by the wealth that surrounded her.

"Want to come hang out with me?" Peyton asked ignoring Mr. James completely.

Haley looked at the blonde with her crazy curls and wild hazel eyes. She then sought the opinion of her father. Mr. James nodded, "Stay out of trouble."

Haley almost laughed. Even at twelve she was smart enough to know that the blonde she was now following into the huge house was the definition of trouble.

Peyton led Haley to her room. She fell on her bed almost passing out but holding on to consciousness long enough to study Haley's face.

Haley stared back at Peyton until Peyton fell backwards on the bed. She stepped closer and let out a breath she wasn't aware she had been holding. She could see the blonde's chest rise and fall in the steady rhythm of breathing.

Haley looked around Peyton's room and immediately noticed that other than CDs the space was void of anything personal. There were no pictures of friends or family, no trophies, no greeting cards or posters of celebrities. It was a room barren of life.

Then Haley spotted the teddy bear on the bookshelf. It was old and worn. She knew that the bear had been loved and must have been precious to the girl. Haley took a blanket from the bed and covered Peyton with it. She wasn't sure what was happening to make a girl her own young age drink, but it had to be a miserable life.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Peyton woke with a headache. It was a pain she had never felt before in her life and prayed she would never feel again. Night had fallen outside her window. She looked at the blanket that covered her. She vaguely recalled the girl with Mr. James. She knew she had asked her to come to her room to hang out, but then after that was a complete blank.

There was a note on her nightstand. She reached over to grab it and groaned with the motion. She unfolded the paper to reveal girl's handwriting. She began to read it.

"Peyton, I wished you hadn't passed out. Would like to be friends. Maybe next time. Haley James."

Peyton folded the paper and placed it in her nightstand drawer. Friends. It was a word she wasn't used to. She had no friends. She had no one. Her parents had quit hiring nannies when she had turned ten as though she was too old for parenting and the private school she went to was so mundane and expected that she didn't even try to make friends with the plastic faces there.

She looked at the clock, she turned the lights off and got back in bed, feeling sick, feeling sorry for herself and feeling as though she would never feel like a real person.


	3. Growing Up

Author's Note: Thank you to those of you hanging in there with this story. I know it was forever between the last update and the one before that. But I'm feeling the groove again. I know these chapters are kind of slow and strange, but it's kind of character re-introduction because although it IS Brooke and Peyton we're dealing with, it's different because they're being brought up in totally different circumstances than on the show, so that has to be dealt with first. In later chapters when I finally bring Peyton and Brooke together it'll all make sense. All this stuff I'm walking through with yall. It all comes together when they finally meet. It works into their chemistry and their pasts work into their friendship. Anyway…read and review if you get the chance and again, I REALLY appreciate the reviews and the kind words. Y'all rock!

Chapter 3

Growing Up Poor in a Poor Town

Brooke stood on the porch of the trailer looking at the fading façade of pale green paint and rust. She hated trailers, particularly this one. She sighed and looked away from the trailer and into the distant horizon. She sipped the sweet tea from a glass she held in her hand. She sat on one of the two steps leading up to the porch and examined the sunset.

She couldn't count the number of hours she had spent dreaming of faraway places and a faraway future. Her fourteen year old mind often drifted to dreams of becoming a doctor. She had always wanted to take care of the sick and wounded. She took another sip letting the ice cold beverage do the best it could to cool her in the sweltering Alabama summer.

She noticed the condensation on the window panes of the trailers. Somehow she knew that the condensation meant that the trailer wasn't well insulated. She shook her head as she thought about the leaky roof, the peeling wallpaper in the bathroom and bedrooms and the worn carpet with cigarette holes in it.

Brooke thought about Mouth and wondered how his summer was going at his grandmother's house in North Carolina. He was still her closest friend. Her only friend. Brooke didn't trust many people and because of that she had a tough time keeping friends, particularly other girls in school.

Freshman year had been rather uneventful due to her non-status and laying low. She had seen the popular kids and often wanted to join them in laughter and pranks and fun, but she had also seen the poor kids like herself that were often the butt of their jokes.

Brooke was never rude, or purposely neglectful of her fellow students. She just usually spoke when she was spoken to. It was a trait she had been wise to learn at home with her abusive mother and it carried into her school life. She always helped others when she could. If a nerd had his books knocked out of his hands by an arrogant jock, Brooke helped him pick them up. If a girl was made fun of because of her weight or her appearance, Brooke always had kind words to say to her to inspire her to forgive and forget.

Brooke had a moral compass that Vicki Davis couldn't possibly claim to have given her. She was respectful, a good student, and compassionate. She enjoyed school and freshman year had been no different. But then summer came and it was back to the trailer park full-time. Without Mouth, it had been thus far, unbearable.

She checked her watch and smoothed out her dress. It was the only nice dress she owned and its outdated floral pattern would certainly not gain her any cool points.

It was Sunday and she was going to church for the first time in her life. An acquaintance from school had invited her to start going with her and Brooke had reluctantly said yes. The acquaintance was one person with whom Brooke had managed to maintain some communication. She had met Shelly Simon in the girls' bathroom just three weeks earlier. Brooke had walked into the bathroom the find Shelly sitting on the floor with her back against the wall crying.

Brooke's heart had found immediate compassion for the girl and had sat quietly next to her. She didn't say anything and Shelly didn't seem in the least annoyed by her presence. She had even stopped crying before too long and spilled everything to Brooke about how the popular kids had been making fun of her and it was all she could do to have faith.

Brooke had noticed her playing with a silver cross around her neck. Shelly had asked her if she was a member of a church and Brooke told her she had never been to church. Shelly immediately invited her to go to church with her and Brooke had accepted. She still didn't know Shelly that well, and had certainly never met her parents. Brooke was nervous about having them pick her up at the trailer park, but she didn't want to hide herself from a potential friend. She was who she was.

Brooke wondered what kind of car the Simons drove. She glanced in the gravel driveway at their beat-up rusted heap of junk. Brooke wasn't really even sure what kind of car it was but the hood ornament was big and gaudy. A nice black sedan pulled in front of the trailer as the embarrassing thought passed through her nervous mind. Brooke blushed slightly as Shelly jumped out of the vehicle with a wide grin on her face.

"Hey Brooke!"

Brooke smiled back feeling infected by Shelly's good mood, "Hi."

Shelly motioned for Brooke to get in the back of the car, "Come on. I'm sorry we're late."

Brooke shrugged and smoothed the wrinkles from her dress, "No problem."

Brooke looked over Shelly's simple yet fashionable yellow sundress. Brooke felt awkward and out of her element, but she climbed into the sedan anyway. Once inside she was greeted by two more smiling faces. Shelly's parents looked like typical cookie-cutter parents. Shelly looked exactly like her mother.

"Mom and Dad," Shelly spoke, "This is Brooke. Brooke, these are my parents."

"Nice to meet you," Brooke nodded toward them. She hated how sometimes her voice was raspy and whispered. It made her seem more shy than she actually was.

"Shelly tells us you've never been to church before?" Mrs. Simon asked, more as a question than a statement.

"No ma'am. My mom's not really…she doesn't really have time, you know?"

Brooke decided some things were better left hidden. She thought about her mother as they pulled away from the trailer. Vicki Davis was passed out cold on the sofa, vodka bottle in her hand,.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Since they were late, Brooke didn't have a chance to meet anyone before the service. After an hour of redemption speech and a touch of fire and brimstone, Brooke was happy that it was over. She felt condemned despite having never truly sinned in her life.

Shelly excused herself and ran to talk to another girl their age leaving Brooke standing alone staring at her patent-leather shoes. Several minutes later she felt a soft gentle hand on her bare arm. She looked up into the wisdom and grace of 60-year old eyes. Brooke smiled and the woman nodded her head.

"Yup, don't know you. My name's Myra Mayfair…that's Ms. Myra to you."

"Good morning Ms. Myra. My name is Brooke Davis. Nice to meet you."

Brooke didn't feel as though Myra Mayfair was looking down on her or staring a hole through her. She just felt like Ms. Myra was reading her whole life with a look into her eyes.

"I've lived in Mountain Creek my whole life and I don't think I've ever seen you."

Brooke smiled shyly, "Maybe you know my mama, Vicki Davis?"

Myra didn't appear to judge the revelation but she did nod slightly, "Might have heard of her. You look like you're a good kid Brooke Davis, not like these other uppity brats I've seen hightailing it around these parts. Too much money's moved into the area. Makes losers if you ask me."

Brooke couldn't help but smile, "Can't judge them for what they have, no more than they can judge me for what I have not."

"You're pretty smart for a kid."

Brooke's smile fell slightly, "Kind of been taking care of myself, you know?"

"I get it," Myra placed her soft hand on Brooke's thin shoulder, "I do get it."

"Listen. If you ever get in any trouble, you give old Myra a call. I'll see what I can do."

And before Brooke could agree or promise, Myra was walking out the door. Brooke wanted to go after her, find out more about her, but was stopped as Shelly grabbed her hand, "Come on Brooke, there's some people I want you to meet."

Brooke followed Shelly to a small group of kids their age. Brooke was introduced to everyone and tried to remember all of their names. They talked about what they were doing for the summer and whose parents were out of town so that a party could be thrown. Shelly smiled at Brooke, "Of course you'll have to come if we find a place to throw one."

Brooke nodded. She had never been to a party, not even a childhood birthday party. Had she not been raised by an alcoholic abusive mother she could have been considered naïve. She glanced at the faces of the kids around her. One of the boys in the group, Richard, continued to stare at her smiling, and she couldn't help but smile back. Brooke had never had a boyfriend, but if she was able to pick one, Richard would have been just her type.

She blushed slightly and was glad when Shelly's parents called them to leave. Brooke couldn't believe that there were actually kids from her school that went to church. Brooke constantly found life amazing. The ride back to the trailer was quiet. Brooke thought she felt some tension among the older Simons.

When they arrived at the trailer Shelly gave her a hug goodbye and a promise to see her again during the summer and to call her if there were any parties. Mrs. Simon stepped out of the car and shook Brooke's hand.

"It was nice to meet you Brooke. Thank you for being kind to our daughter. Maybe this will repay the favor," with that, Mrs. Simon handed Brooke a one-hundred dollar bill.

Brooke shook her head offended by the woman's gesture, "Mrs. Simon. I don't want your money."

"It's obvious you need it, sweetie. Just…just please stay away from Shelly. I don't really think that hanging around with your kind is what Shelly needs. I'm sorry if that's unkind, but it's the truth."

With that Mrs. Simon got back in the car and they left. Shelly turned around to wave at Brooke completely unaware of her mother's words and actions. Brooke tried not to cry. She tried not to be angry. She failed miserably at both.

After a few hours of sitting on the porch, Brooke went inside. Her mother was still passed out on the sofa. The room stank of alcohol and stale cigarettes. She wanted to scream at her mother, tell her how much she hated her, but Brooke felt nothing but pity for the pathetic woman. Brooke went to her room. It was all hers now that Lisa had moved in with her current boyfriend.

She opened the tiny closet and moved some things around on the floor of it. There was a hole in the back of the closet where Brooke kept an old coffee tin. She opened it revealing several hundred dollars that she had been hiding for years. She placed the crisp hundred that Mrs. Simon had given her into the tin and withdrew a ten dollar bill. She changed clothes, slipping on a tank top and cut off jeans.

She stuffed the ten dollars in her pocket and combed out her silky brown hair. Brooke was pale with beautiful hazel eyes and inch-deep dimples on both cheeks. By every standard, Brooke Davis was gorgeous. Even in poverty level clothing and no tan, she was far above the rest of the girls in her class when it came to looks. It was money she was lacking.

Brooke wanted to buy something new, but knowing that money wasn't everything, she decided to settle for buying something used. She was going to the thrift store. She would buy herself an outfit worth having, even if it was previously-owned.

Growing up Rich in a Rich town

Peyton Sawyer hated being fourteen as much as she hated being thirteen. Her birthday had come and gone with no event. Her parents had been on another publicity-gathering trip and Peyton could have cared less. The only person she ever really talked to was Haley James and she didn't get to see her nearly enough to be best friends with her. Peyton knew the best friend she had was herself.

She had people in school that she hung out with and went to parties with, and got drunk with, but she couldn't really care for any of them. They only loved her because she always had cash for the alcohol.

Peyton thought about parties and realized that since her parents wouldn't be back for several days it was time to have one of her own. She got on her cell phone and called everyone she knew. She was having a pool party. She ordered two kegs using her mother's credit card. The party would be that night.

She was on the phone with her pseudo-party-friend, Rachel, "I know, but there's nothing like an impromptu bash."

Rachel laughed on the other end of the line, "I know where to score some hard liquor."

"Nice, come over as soon as possible. It's early enough that we can set the cool mood before everyone starts showing up."

"Later!" Rachel hung up. Peyton wondered what girls in Normal, America were doing with their Sunday nights. She wondered briefly what it would be like to be sitting down to Sunday night dinner with a brother and a mother and a father.

The thought passed quickly as she grabbed her CD case and headed for the pool. She worked quickly setting up the sound system. There were some things she knew how to do and electronics was one of them. Peyton loved being rich because had she wanted to, she could have called a hundred different people to drop whatever they were doing to be at her beck and call. Sadly, that also meant that anyone she could call wouldn't be there for her, but because of the money.

Peyton didn't care. She was only interested in having a good time and being the center of attention.

XXXXXXXXXX

The party had been raging for hours. It had been a huge success with more than 100 people dancing around the pool or diving into it. Peyton had sat back and watched it all, neither dancing nor swimming. Drinking was her activity of choice.

It was after midnight when Freddy Henderson, a sixteen year old asked her if she wanted to go up to her room and show him some of her personal things. She had giggled uncontrollably but took him up anyway. Freddy had laid her back on the bed and kissed her roughly. Peyton didn't care. It was attention, attention she wasn't used to. She sank into each kiss, relishing every single feeling it gave her.

It was that night, that dry summer night, that Peyton Sawyer lost her virginity. She had willingly given herself over to him and emotionally she hadn't felt a thing.

They were still lying without clothes in her bed when Larry Sawyer came into her room the next morning. Some of the staff had been put on party watch and had alerted the Sawyers when the party had grown beyond control. Larry stood in the doorway of Peyton's room. His face showed his anger while his words revealed his deep-seated hate.

"Get up you little slut!"

Peyton and Freddy were wide awake. Freddy grabbed his jeans from the floor and slid them on effortlessly. He grabbed his shirt and ran past Larry Sawyer. Peyton almost laughed at Freddy's cowardice until she saw her father's face and it sunk in what he had called her. She was wordless.

"You're just like your mother."

The venom dripped from his lips as he turned and walked away leaving Peyton wondering what he meant. She didn't follow him. She felt it better to deal with him after everything had calmed down. She slipped of the bed and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked older than her fourteen years, felt like she was a million years old but was as immature as a ten year old.

She shook her head disappointingly. She quietly slipped into the shower and washed away the party and her careless, emotionless night with Freddy Henderson. She felt the hot water on her bare skin and realized that she felt numb. It didn't even concern her that she would probably be talked about around the circuit of friends she had or that she would return to school in the fall with a bad reputation.

Peyton felt as though she didn't care about anything. Nothing and no one seemed to matter to her. Peyton had known for a long time that she didn't know who she was. She didn't know what kind of personality she should have, or what kind of smile or laugh when it wasn't produced for the benefit of others. Peyton was so alone and lost that she wondered if she could ever be saved…she wondered if she ever wanted to be saved.

XXXXXXXXXX

Feeling refreshed by the shower and ready to deal with her father, Peyton went in search of him. She heard the melodious, calming rhythms of Otis Redding coming from her father's study. She crept quietly to the door to see what kind of expression he was wearing.

Her whole world turned and twisted when she found her father leaning over a mirror on the coffee table snorting cocaine. She wasn't sure what reaction she should have, but Peyton felt immense anger and sudden abandonment. She knew she wasn't really cared about, but to know that her father was into cocaine while he judged her constantly for everything she did, it was destructive.

"Nice, Dad. I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree huh?"

He looked up as he wiped his nose. The sneer on his face spoke volumes, "I wouldn't know Peyton dear."

She looked at him confused, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Why don't you go ask your mother?"

He returned to his cocaine leaving Peyton to search out her mother. She found her in her bedroom brushing her hair at the large cherry wood vanity where Peyton often found her.

"Hello, Peyton darling."

Peyton sat on the bed and watched her mother fixing her lipstick, "Mother."

Peyton stared a few minutes longer before finally asking her mother what her father meant. She noticed Lillian's expression as it fell momentarily into panic and then lifted back up into a falsely optimistic gaze.

"Peyton, your father has a drug problem. There's no telling what he meant."

Peyton didn't buy the explanation, but she chose not to pursue it. She wasn't sure if it was lack of concern or fear that stopped her from asking anything further. She nodded and left her mother counting brushstrokes.

She sat by the pool letting the warm morning sun warm her pale skin and soak into her blonde curls. Her skinny frame carried the weight of Peyton's world. She wondered what it was like to do drugs. She wondered if maybe there was someone out there who knew about her and wanted to save her from her uncaring parents. Peyton laughed at herself.

"No one gives a shit," She said to no one.

She thought of Nanny Deb and Haley James. She thought of Rachel and Freddy and her party friends. She wanted to call Haley. She wanted to tell her everything that had happened. She wanted to confide in someone and actually let go of her defenses long enough to let someone care about her. But some tiny voice in Peyton's head told her she was unlovable, unwanted and nothing more than a trophy in a huge house.


	4. Things

Author's Note: This is going to be a short chapter, but I'm already working on the next chapter so don't worry! This chapter will be very important because when we come back in the next chapter, it'll be three years later. The blanks will be filled in using flashbacks and conversations. I'm ready for Peyton and Brooke to finally meet so I'm jumping to that point in time in the story. We'll see two very different girls than we see here. Both of their lives are changed drastically in the three years after this chapter…you'll see in the next chapter…anyway…thank you for those who are reading and reviewing…It keeps me going.

Chapter 4

Things to Come

Brooke Davis was quite popular in her own right. She was neither a cheerleader or a drama freak, a band geek or a girl-jock. She was simply friends with everyone who spoke to her. She was even friends with most of her teachers. As she had grown into her seventeen-year-old body, boys had begun to take notice, but Brooke Davis was still far too shy to have anything to do with them.

There was one boy and one boy only that she chose to admire, from afar. Richard Harrison was Brooke's junior-year crush. She had silently watched him whenever he was near and she often found it hard to believe that it had been two and a half years since she had first met him in church with Shelly Simon. She had spoken to him on three separate occasions since that day.

Once she was the same summer she had met him. She was on Main Street and they ran into each other, her spilling her sweet tea from Edgar's Bakery, him laughing it off. He had been with three of his friends and they had snickered at Brooke as she stood trying not to scream from the ice that had landed somehow in her bra. He had smiled and shrugged.

"I'm so sorry about that," his voice was thick with charm.

Brooke had been in awe, "It's okay. I'm a clutz."

Richard flashed that devilish grin again, "Well, see you around."

The second time was at school their sophomore year. He was walking down the hall and stopped by her locker as she was putting her things away.

"Hey Sweet Tea!" Brooke couldn't believe her remembered and blushed at the thought.

"Hi," She flashed the dimples that were quickly becoming her trademark.

"Got a pen I can borrow for my test next period?"

Brooke nodded and handed him her only pen, "Here you go."

"Thanks!" he smacked her playfully on her rear and disappeared into the crowd of student rushing to and from classes.

Brooke had been shocked by his action and slightly flattered. She never saw herself as someone the boys would want, nor did she want to. Brooke had dreams and intended on following them. She had decided that she would attend the University of Alabama at Birmingham School of Medicine and practice pediatrics. She wanted to make sure no child ever went without treatment or someone to care about them.

As she sat in class looking at the back of Richard Harrison's head, she thought of her mother and how many times she had been hit as a child. It had been a year and a half since the last time that Vicki Davis had hit Brooke. Brooke had gotten too old for Vicki to get away with it. And Brooke was increasingly able to stand up for herself.

She shook the thought of her mother off as she recalled the third time Richard had spoken to her. It had been right before she had taken her seat for chemistry lab. She glanced in front of her watching Richard pour one liquid and then another into test tubes.

He had placed a pen down in front of Brooke as she sat down. She smiled up at him, "What's this?"

"I'm pretty sure I owe you a pen from last year."

And then he had turned back around leaving Brooke in her current position of staring and dreaming. Mouth nudged her from the seat next to hers.

"Wake up Davis! He's not worth failing chem. Lab for," Mouth whispered so no one but Brooke could hear him.

She smiled at him and shrugged, "Never know."

Mouth shook his head. Brooke smiled even more deeply. She loved Mouth McFadden. He was her best friend and had it not been for him she wouldn't have survived the years that she had. He grinned back at her, his huge smile lighting up the room around him.

"Hey, I heard there was a party going on Saturday night, wanna go?" He asked Brooke.

Brooke shrugged, "Sure. Might as well. I'm ahead on all of my assignments so…"

Mouth laughed, "You're such a nerd."

Brooke blushed knowing how true his statement was. She blushed even harder when Richard turned around and grinned at the both of them, "She's too hot to be a nerd, buddy."

XXXXXXXXXXX

Brooke scanned the crowd of parents and wasn't surprised to see that her mother wasn't there. She moved her tassel from one side of her black cap to the other. It was a significant moment in her life and she only had her friends to share it with. She thought momentarily of her father, the one who didn't live long enough to see her walk, much less to see her graduate.

Her sister was off with one guy or another. Her mother was probably home drunk. And despite her tragic family life, Brooke was happy. Truly happy.

It was the end of Senior Year at Mountain Creek High School. She had just received her report card and was more than proud to see that she had received all A's ensuring her scholarship to the pre-med program at UAB. She knew Mouth was right and she was a total nerd, but she also had friends, and Richard Harrison thought she was hot, although he never had asked her out.

Brooke was on top of the world. She looked at her best friends walking toward her on Main Street, partying at the local pizza joint to celebrate the upcoming graduation. Mouth and Shelly had started dating two months earlier and were inseparable. Mouth had a cool factor that no one but Brooke really understood, but also no one ever tried to knock him down. Mouth was more popular than Brooke dared to be. There was also Trey Williams, a jock, Theresa Muller, a cheerleader, and Richard Harrison, jock, rich-boy, and her friend.

"Hi guys!" Brooke greeted them enthusiastically.

There was a menagerie of hugs and hellos from her friends and to her friends. They stepped into the cool building and ordered three large pizzas. Brooke looked at how well-dressed everyone was. Tonight was the annual Senior Bash. Someone always through a formal non-chaperoned, non-school-related wild party at the lake and this year was no exception. Brooke looked down at her own beautiful cherry red dress. It fell just above the knees, showing off her beautiful tan she had received working on weekends at a local farm. Her legs were perfectly built by the Creator, as was the rest of her.

Her dark hair was pulled into a ponytail and her makeup was minimal, but perfect. Her hazel eyes beamed with the wonderful prospect of the future that was in store for her. She thought about how she was finally going to make it out of Mountain Creek, how after years of her mother tearing her down, and her sister making fun of her, she was going to be something more than what she had witnessed growing up.

"What's on your mind?" Richard whispered so the rest of the group couldn't hear him.

Brooke looked into his sparkling blue eyes. His hair was blonde and his smile was sly and sexy. Brooke blushed under the weight of his stare and shrugged, "Just thinking about the future."

Richard stood up and raised his glass of root beer, "I want to make a toast."

The group stopped talking and started smiling raising their individual glasses as well. Richard had the attention of everyone in the restaurant. But only those sitting at his table thought of him as a god. Richard knew he could make anyone do anything he wanted, and he usually did. He smiled down at Brooke, the lustful thoughts in his mind hidden behind his innocent smile.

"To Brooke," He grinned, "For the full ride to UAB, and to saying yes to being my date tonight."

Brooke's mouth fell open as she glanced nervously around the table. Her experience with dating was nil. She had gone throughout her entire high school experience without one real date. And now that they were about to go separate ways for perhaps forever, she was going to have the one date she had wanted all along.

As they finished their pizza and walked to their cars, Mouth pulled Brooke aside and whispered to her, "Be careful tonight Brooke."

Brooke looked at him perplexed, "What does that mean?"

Mouth looked up and saw Richard heading toward them, "Just, be careful with him."

Brooke followed Mouth with her eyes as he linked arms with Shelly and got into his car. Richard wrapped his arm around Brooke's shoulder and smiled down at her. His stature compared to her 5'4" small frame was huge. His football days were officially over, but that didn't make him any less formidable. Brooke shook off Mouth's warning and allowed Richard to escort her to his red mustang convertible.

She finally, for once in her life, felt like the belle of the ball, a princess to be adored by all.

XXXXXXXXXX

Things to Do

Peyton Sawyer was high and she could care less. She had somehow managed to miraculously graduate from high school. Her report card contained D's and C's, but spoke nothing of how if Peyton had ever applied herself, she could have been a genius. College was in the back of her mind, but she knew with their money, her parents would buy her way into whatever school she wanted to go to.

She checked with the house staff as she got home and asked them when her so-called parents were supposed to be home. They confirmed what she had been told by Larry and Lillian, another two weeks. She wasn't even bitter that they had missed the graduation ceremonies. She had wished she could miss them too.

Peyton called Haley and Haley said she'd be right over. Haley loved to be in the presence of Peyton, but never had any of the terrible vices that Peyton had. After hanging up the phone, Peyton pulled the small vial of cocaine from her pocket. She snorted just enough to get her just that much higher.

She made a few phone calls and within five hours, the party at her house was raging. Drugs were everywhere. Peyton had made connections through her partying ways and had scored a huge mass of illegal narcotics. The price tag was amazingly high but she would deal with that later.

She danced left and right swaying to the hip hop that pounded through the speakers. It wasn't the music she had in her soul but she liked the beat. She wasn't sure which drug in her system worked for her the best, but it was all good.

She sat next to Haley and a guy she had never seen before, Jimmy Jones. Peyton could have counted at least ten guys at the party that she had slept with, none of which ever made her heart pound the way Jimmy Jones did.

She smiled at the man-boy and her heart melted even in its drugged state. His grin was evil and sly and thrilling all at the same time and she knew it was him and not the cocaine that was making her heart race the way it was.

"You look like trouble," He spoke in a deep voice, making Peyton weak in the knees.

She maintained her composure, "I am trouble."

"Then let me be your warden," the line coming from anyone else would have been lame and a total turn off, but Jimmy Jones made it sound, look, and feel like the come-on of the year.

Peyton looked around realizing that the only person she even cared about at the party was Haley James who sat staring up at her through concerned eyes. Peyton loved Haley but she was also the conscience that Peyton never wanted.

"Hales," Peyton smiled at her only friend, "I think Jimmy and I are going to split."

Jimmy nodded and in with a strong hand, he pulled Peyton away from the timid brunette. Peyton flashed a smile back to Haley and Haley knew that no matter what happened with Peyton, her smart-ass attitude was going to land her in deep trouble some day.

Haley thought about all the lowlifes that Peyton dealt with from drug dealers to old fashioned street thugs. Peyton liked the danger and Haley often wondered if it was the danger that kept Peyton alive. Haley wasn't sure who Peyton was underneath the party-girl. She was beginning to wonder if Peyton knew who she was, and if she would ever find out.


	5. Crashing Introductions

Author's Note: Thank you very very much to those who review…all three of you this last time LOL. I think it'll get a little better from here…thank you guys so much for hanging in there.

There is some cussing in this chapter, so I apologize for that ahead of time. It's kind of short but I have to go get my three year old to bed and I didn't want to go to bed tonight without getting this initial introduction posted.

Thank you again, so much for reviewing and for those quietly reading…I hope it's entertaining!

Chapter 5

Crashing Introductions

Brooke hated to ride her bike after dark. She hated the dark period. She knew that for a twenty year old that was the dumbest fear to have but she harbored it anyway. Her thin body pushed the pedals up the hill that plagued the six miles from her job at the Moon Door Café on the outskirts of Mountain Creek to her home in the middle of three very lonely, very quiet acres.

She thought about her one bedroom trailer. It made her sad that she had given up on so many dreams, but she also knew that safety lied in what you knew about the world, and she knew every bad and good thing there was to know about Mountain Creek.

Brooke listened to the quietness around her and shook off the chill that always came with solitude. Being alone was something Brooke chose to do because it was easier. Being with someone, being with anyone seemed to always bring pain and heartache. She thought about her mother and Lisa. It had been three years since she had spoken to them and although they had never been supportive or caring toward Brooke, it hurt nonetheless.

She kept up with them through the gossips at Moon Door. She knew that she herself had often been fodder for the rumor mill but Brooke ignored it. She tried to never listen when she overheard people talking about her. Often, rooms grew quiet when she walked in the door. Even the so-called Christians at her church would snicker and point when she dared to sit in the pews.

Brooke pedaled harder. She thought about how life seemed to turn on a dime. As she processed the things that had gone wrong in her short life, she failed to hear the engines coming toward her. By the time the noise registered with her, it was too late. She looked behind her and found herself staring face-to-grill with a large brand-spanking new black Ford F-150. The pickup truck was barreling straight for her at an obnoxious speed.

She swerved her bicycle to the right taking a nosedive into the ditch along the side of the hill. Before she left the asphalt she caught a glimpse of another pair of headlights coming toward the pickup. The pickup swerved into the oncoming lane causing the other car to leave the road, taking refuge in the ditch across the street.

Brooke rolled until her shoulder smacked against a tree causing a shooting pain to shimmy throughout her upper body. She bit her lip holding back obscene language. She had never been one to cuss, and she wasn't about to start.

She heard brakes squealing and then laughter. She recognized one of the voices and it made her shrink back against the tree she was trying to stand up by. They were men, they were her age and they were untouchable. She waited until she heard the engine of the pickup roar away.

She shook off the fear as she let her right hand explore her left shoulder. She knew it was going to be a bruise but she knew too well that bruises would heal. She inhaled as she looked up to the top of the ditch realizing that it was more a gulley and less a ditch. She used the plant life to crawl out of it and back to the street. She quickly remembered the other car as she saw smoke rising up from the other ditch.

She ran quickly to the other side of the road only to hear cussing that made her blush.

"Son of a bitch! I can't believe my fucking luck. Piece of shit town with piece of shit assholes. I hate the damn South. Southern hospitality my ass. Stupid ass hats!"

Brooke peered down into the darkness to see a mass of blonde curls kicking what little bit of life was left out of the old car. She took a mental picture of the girl who was pounding on the door of the rusted 1980 Oldsmobile with her black converse. Brooke couldn't help but smile despite being more than slightly embarrassed by the girl's language.

She listened carefully letting the girl finish her rage. She could detect not one single ounce of an accent. She knew the blonde wasn't from Alabama. She glanced to the tag of the car which was partially covered by kudzu from the crash. She could make out that it was a California tag.

Brooke knew that explained everything, "Are you hurt?"

The blonde jumped in surprise and turned quickly with a scowl on her face. It faded slightly as she took in the sight of Brooke. The girl climbed up the side of the ditch and accepted the outstretched hand that was offered to her.

"Are you hurt?" Brooke asked again.

The blonde looked herself over and felt of her forehead. There was a small cut there but nothing serious. She nodded satisfactorily, "Nothing that won't heal."

Brooke rubbed her shoulder as the pain throbbed a little harder. The blonde pursed her lips together and seemed as though she was trying not to care but had to ask anyway, "Are you hurt?"

Brooke looked at the blonde thoughtfully and without thinking said, "I've had worse."

She blushed slightly at her revelation. She quickly introduced herself to get the attention off of her statement. "Brooke Davis."

The blonde looked at her trying to decide whether or not to reveal her name. She wasn't sure about the town she was in or the people in it. She had never been outside of Los Angeles, the south was a place where mutated DNA was caused by brother and sister procreating.

She decided the brunette looked normal enough, "Peyton. Peyton Sawyer."

Brooke smiled slightly, her dimples making only a veiled appearance, "How in the world did you end up here from California?"

Peyton blinked several times as though trying to figure out how Brooke knew where she was from. Brooke recognized the look of perplexity. She smiled more deeply, "Your tag."

She shook her head apologetically, "I didn't mean to end up here. Actually, I'm looking for the fastest way out of here."

Brooke took note of the girl's anxiety. She could tell by the nervous way that the girl stood, half cool, half freaking out, that she was in some kind of trouble. Brooke shrugged only making her shoulder hurt worse. "Um…I would suggest heading in the direction of the interstate, but…"

Brooke held her hands out toward the car palms up, "But I guess that's not going to happen tonight."

The blonde rubbed a shaky hand over her face. Brooke felt an immense compassion toward the girl despite not knowing her very well.

"Fuck." She stated, "What am I going to do now?"

Brooke knew it was a rhetorical question but answered her anyway, "Listen. I have a place about three miles from here. If you're willing to walk, you can stay with me tonight and tomorrow I'll get you a ride to Montgomery. You can catch a bus, or train, there."

Peyton eyed the road suspiciously and then looked back at Brooke with the same attitude, "Look, I don't really know you and so far I haven't seen much hospitality in this town. How do I know you're not just some sort of weird scout for an inbreeding clan of mutant people and you're going to lure me back to your lair in the woods for me to get butt-raped by some freak?"

Brooke raised an eyebrow. She was oddly offended and amused by Peyton all at the same time. She was certainly entertained by the obvious misconception that Peyton had about the South.

"Well, I guess you'll just have to trust me," Brooke smiled and started walking away. She called back over her shoulder, "Or you can trust what mutants may or may not be out there in the woods."

Peyton watched Brooke walk away getting about fifty feet away from her before she turned her head left and right realizing that woods surrounded her on both sides. She looked down at the badly abused car. Her heart skipped a few beats as she heard a howl in the distance.

"Hey!" she called to Brooke, "Wait! Wait for me!"

She quickly climbed down the hill, grabbed her duffel bag and sprinted back up the hill. She was more than relieved to see the brunette standing at the top of the ditch once again with her hand outstretched.

"Thanks," Peyton said softly as though politeness was foreign to her.

They walked in silence for a mile before Peyton couldn't stay quiet any longer, "Live here your whole life?"

Brooke nodded, "Uh-huh."

"Is it really such a great town that you never thought about leaving?" Peyton wasn't being snotty. Curiosity always got the best of her.

Brooke felt her heart falter as she recalled all the dreams she had held for so long, "It's okay."

Peyton silently took note at the change in the girl's demeanor. She even noticed that Brooke's shoulders sagged slightly. She pushed away the thoughts of concern, knowing that staying in one place long enough to know someone would never be an option for her again.

"So what's life like in a big city," Brooke asked very interested in getting to know the blonde.

Something about the girl intrigued her. She wasn't sure if it was the way she talked tough, the sudden way she appeared, or how she seemed to not want to be interested in anyone else but couldn't help but ask. Brooke took stock of the girl's thinness. She wanted to feed her some good home cooking from the Café. She noticed that Peyton was pretty pale for a California girl.

"What makes you think I'm from a big city?" Peyton asked as though offended, "California is a big state, I could be from the woods just like you."

Brooke couldn't stop herself from laughing, "First, if you had seen your eyes when you realized that you were about to be left alone surrounded by woods, you'd know beyond doubt that you're a city girl, not a country girl. Second…the only people I've ever heard cuss like that are truckers from Atlanta and Birmingham."

Peyton conceded, "Los Angeles. It's okay. I don't really miss it although I thought I would. Not much to miss though."

"Got any family?" Brooke knew she was asking too many questions for the blonde but she felt inexplicably drawn to her and felt as though a higher power had brought her to Mountain Creek.

Peyton shrugged, "No one that matters."

Brooke dropped the subject as they walked up the dirt drive way to her trailer. Peyton stopped and looked at the trailer illuminated by a porch light and solar-charged sidewalk lights.

She swallowed hard as she took in the dark around her, "You live here…alone?"

Brooke shrugged, "Yeah. It's…it's not much, but I…it beats the alternative."

Peyton's brow furrowed in doubt "What's the alternative?"

Brooke thought about the alternative, living in the midst of people who knew too much, talked too much, and hated too much. She looked up at the sky and shook her head.

"Look. It's not much, but it's either the trailer…or the rain."

Brooke walked inside leaving Peyton staring up at a seemingly cloudless night sky. She was about to ask if Brooke was on drugs and if she could have some when a downpour found its way to the ground drenching her immediately. Peyton gathered her black leather jacket around her more tightly and thought about not going inside. As her curls plastered themselves to her forehead she realized she was being more than stupid.

Brooke was in the small but nicely decorated living room lying a blanket and pillow on the brown leather couch, "Feel free to watch television, but there's no cable or satellite."

Peyton wanted to talk more, she wanted company, but Brooke was sending out a signal that she was shut off from Peyton for the night. Brooke muttered that she would see her in the morning and disappeared behind her bedroom door.

Peyton stared at the back of Brooke as she walked away. She blushed slightly as she realized how gorgeous the girl was even in a waitress uniform straight out of a 1980s sitcom. After the door closed, Peyton shrugged and whispered to herself, "Something I said?"


	6. Enter Sandman

Author's Note: Again a short chapter, but hopefully it's good. I have several chapters planned out so the next few updates should be longer and therefore it'll take a little longer to get them posted but not too terribly long. Thank you guys so much for giving this story a chance and I hope that it will not disappoint in the long run. Y'all are great!

Chapter 6

Enter Sandman

Brooke was asleep. Exhausted from a hard night's work and form the fear that had been wreaking havoc on her body since she had heard his laughter, she had fallen asleep quickly. Too quickly. She was softly illuminated by the nightlight that was plugged in near her bed. She tossed again, the light revealing the obvious torture she was experiencing in her nightmares.

_**"You sat there and did nothing." **_

_**Mouth looked at Brooke sadly, "There was nothing I could do."**_

_**Brooke was heartbroken, "Nothing you could do? Mouth are you serious? Didn't you hear me? Didn't you see me? And still you could do nothing?"**_

_**"I'm sorry Brooke," Mouth shrugged, "I have to go."**_

_**Hands pulling grabbing twisting. She was forever trapped, forever changed.**_

_**"You're nothing, Brooke," Lisa laughed in her face ignoring the bruise that was covering Brooke's cheek. **_

_**Brooke shook her head, "No. This wasn't my fault. I didn't…"**_

_**"Face it Brookie, you're the slut of the family now," her mother laughed the smell of vodka ripe on her breath.**_

_**"Lucas," Brooke frowned, "Don't do anything stupid. Please don't go after them. Please. Let it go. I will if you will."**_

_**Lucas shook his head sadly, "That's just it Brooke. You can't let it go. You can try, but it's always there."**_

_**Brooke watched as Luke got into his truck, "I love you, Luke."**_

_**Lucas smiled, "I love you too. And don't worry. When I get back, we'll grill some steaks and celebrate the rest of our lives, because these guys are done. They won't get away with it any longer."**_

_**Brooke watched Lucas leave, somehow knowing in her heart it was the last time she would see him.**_

_**She was on her back against thorns and underbrush. Her screams were lost in the woods. The blood on her legs mixed with the red dress that was pooled beneath her. The betrayal, the pain, the agony, it all paled in comparison to the fear…the terrible, lonely, spine chilling fear that came only when the soul was lost.**_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Peyton turned on the couch as the thunder rumbled. The downpour had been steady for an hour before suddenly lightning and thunder began to reign in the skies. At first she had been slightly scared, but then she found comfort in nature's chaos. It matched her own inner world.

She wondered if her new friend was comfortable with the storm. She thought about the girl. Brooke was the first person she had met in a long time that she felt halfway at ease with. Peyton knew she wasn't about to grow roots, but it was nice to know that even in her state of mind and life, she might still find a semblance of normal.

She looked around the small room lit only by a small light from above the stove. She smirked finding it funny that a girl who lives alone in the middle of nowhere would need a nightlight of sorts. She sat up not feeling tired yet. The time difference between California and Alabama made it feel like 9pm to Peyton instead of 11pm like the clock on the end table told her.

She looked at the framed picture that sat on the end table next to the clock. It was Brooke and a very handsome young man. He had blonde hair and blue eyes. His grin was the sweetest thing Peyton had ever seen aside from the equally adorable grin on Brooke's face in the picture. Peyton's curiosity was peaked as she wondered who the boy was. She would be sure to ask in the morning.

She looked around and found only two more pictures. They were of Brooke and an old woman and Brooke with a pretty red dress on. Peyton picked the picture off of the television and looked at it more closely. She sat down holding it while trying to see the difference between the Brooke she had met that evening and the smiling, ecstatic Brooke in the picture.

Peyton frowned. The Brooke in the picture seemed happy and thrilled to be alive. The Brooke she had met just that evening seemed much more fragile. Almost broken. She wondered what a girl who grew up in the South would have to worry about. She knew that there was no way that it was anything compared to the drug habit that Peyton was trying to kick or the lack of family, or the lack of money that she now had.

Peyton would have laughed if the truth wasn't so painful. She was homeless, on the run, and scared to death. Before she could feel sorry for herself any longer, another loud, clap of thunder boomed throughout the trailer rattling the windows.

The noise unnerved her but it didn't scare her. She was about to ponder on Brooke's face some more when a scream, terrified, full of pain, shook her heart. She stood up again and looked toward the closed door. She wasn't sure if she should open it and help Brooke or run the other way. Something in her urged her to move forward. It was a voice in her head that whispered to her to be a hero for once.

Peyton moved quickly toward the door and flung it open. She found Brooke sitting up sweating despite the chill in the air. She was breathing heavily. Peyton held up her hands calmly.

"Hey," she whispered to Brooke, "Are you okay?"

Brooke eyed her through the semi-darkness, she found some comfort in Peyton's presence. She also felt embarrassed.

"I'm so sorry I woke you up," Brooke shyly answered.

Peyton shrugged, "I wasn't asleep. Were you…were you having a nightmare?"

Brooke found herself wanting to answer the blonde, but there was too much to reveal and she couldn't give any part of herself to anyone without losing her composure, her safety, and her mind. "No…I mean, yeah, it was just…the storm I guess. Weird, huh?"

"Have nightmares often?" Peyton dug a little deeper crossing her own thin arms over her t-shirt clad chest.

Brooke suddenly found the sheets clenched tightly in her fists and shook them free. She looked up at Peyton and shook her head, "No, not really."

Peyton nodded, knowing that Brooke was lying, but feeling no need to press any further. It was neither her business, nor her prerogative to stick around long enough to care about the brunette. "Okay. I guess I'll see you at breakfast."

Brooke nodded slightly, "Good night."

Peyton began to shut the door, but Brooke stopped her, "Do you think…do you think maybe you could just leave the door open."

Peyton's heart melted at the incredibly vulnerable expression on Brooke's face, "Yeah. Yeah, no problem."

She left the door open and slipped back under the covers on the couch. She picked up the picture of Brooke she had laid on the coffee table and studied it again.

"Strange," she whispered softly as she began to finally feel sleepy.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Brooke felt some sort of relief and reassurance that Peyton was still there. She poured herself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter watching the blonde sleep. She looked so peaceful, so safe. Brooke envied that. She noticed Peyton was holding something against her as she slept. On closer inspection she recognized the frame and then could see that it was indeed the picture of her in the red dress. The same red dress she had been wearing the night she graduated.

Brooke felt uncomfortable and wondered why Peyton had fallen asleep with it. She made enough noise to wake up the blonde and pretended to be busy in the kitchen so that Peyton wouldn't know that she had seen her with the picture. Peyton stood up startled by the loud noises that the pots and pans made.

"Morning sunshine," Brooke laughed, "Want me to make you some breakfast?"

Peyton quietly placed the framed picture back on the television set. Brooke pretended not to notice. Peyton shook her head and sat down at one of the two bar stools at the counter, "Nah. I'm not really a breakfast person. Thanks though."

Brooke eyed Peyton's thinness from across the counter, "You look like maybe you should eat something."

Peyton raised an eyebrow and flashed Brooke a grin, "You aren't exactly packing on the pounds slim."

Brooke laughed, "Fair enough."

"So, where do I need to go to catch a ride?" Peyton asked.

Brooke nodded remembering why Peyton was there in the first place, "Well. I thought about that and maybe the best thing to do is to get your care fixed."

Peyton shook her head, "I'm pretty sure it's totaled. And I don't really have the money to…"

"Please. Please let me talk to Whitey Durham. He runs the local garage and I know he'd help me out on this one. Stay in Mountain Creek while it's being fixed. You can even stay here. I really don't mind."

Peyton thought about the fear she saw in the girl's eyes the night before. Before she could stop herself she was agreeing to the proposition. "Okay. But if it takes longer than one week, I'll have to move on."

Brooke smiled widely, her dimples making an impact on Peyton's heart. Her dimples faded as she looked at the clock on the end table, "I've got to get to work. Breakfast shift started already."

Peyton looked around, unsure of what she should do. Brooke offered some suggestions, "You can either go with me or you can hang out here. I don't mind at all either way. I've got a co-worker who should be picking me up in just a minute."

Peyton was gracious of Brooke's kindness, although she hadn't often experienced genuineness like hers but once. Her mind found its way to an image of Haley James. It made her sad to realize the kind of person she had been to Haley. Peyton knew, looking at Brooke, that it was time to make a change for the better.

"I think I'll just hang out here until your shift is over if you're sure that's okay. Maybe go back to sleep for a little while."

Brooke nodded just as the sound of a horn reached their ears, "Absolutely. I have some books in my room if you get bored with Montel, or Maury, or whatever show is on the local channels. There's a radio in my room. Make yourself at home."

"Thank you, Brooke. I will." Peyton checked out Brooke as she exited the door once again finding herself inexplicably fascinated with Brooke's waitress uniform.

She looked around the room and crawled back onto the couch. She grabbed the remote and flipped on the television. The reception sucked, but it was better than sitting in silence, and as local anchors began their morning reports, Peyton fell asleep to thoughts of Brooke and her nightmare, her serious need for a line of coke, and why in the world she would ever agree to stay in Mountain Creek, Alabama.


	7. The Morning After

Author's Note: Sorry about the serious delay in updating. I'm getting worse as I get older LOL. Here's the latest installment of Mountain Creek. I'll also be trying to update Beautiful Monster in the next day or so for those interested in that one. I also haven't forgotten about Put Your Records On, although I am thinking of a whole new story as well. LOL. So many tales to tell, so many ways to tell them, so little time.

Thank you to tall you reviewers and readers. You're appreciated more than you know!!!

-Jill

7

The Morning After

Work Hard

"Brooke, darlin', do you think I could get another piece of toast?" the withered old man's voice was gentle and sweet.

Brooke's dimples increased tenfold as she smiled heartily at the man, "Of course, Mr. Thomas. Want some more of Myra's blackberry jam on it too?"

Mr. Thomas smiled back, "You know I do."

Brooke walked back to the kitchen where Myra Mayfair was hard at work above the grill. Myra smirked at her, "Let me guess, Harry wants more toast?"

"You got it," Brooke's voice was raspy and tired, but held a hint of playfulness to it. She reached toward the counter and was about to grab another order to take out to the floor when Myra gently squeezed her arm.

Brooke stopped and looked at the older woman patiently. Myra patted her on the shoulder, "Have I ever told you that I thank God every day for bringing you into my life?"

Brooke blushed despite having been told this by Myra daily, "Yes ma'am, you have, but it never hurts to hear it again."

"Well," Myra's eyes shined with the compassion she held for Brooke, "You're an angel darlin', even if you don't know it."

Brooke shrugged as she hoisted the tray of plates up, "I don't know about that Ms. Myra. I'm just human and very fallible."

Myra shook her head, and Brooke read the same expression she'd seen in Myra's face time and again. Myra had been looking after Brooke for two and a half years. Myra kept an eye on her mental and physical state of being. Brooke's mind wandered briefly to the second time she had ever seen Myra Mayfair, the first was at church with Shelly Simon.

The second time, Brooke had been sitting alone on the curb of the bus station. Myra had gotten off the bus having just returned from visiting a sick friend in Montgomery. She spotted Brooke immediately and stood over her. Her normally inquisitive face turned to one of compassion and concern when the thin girl looked up at her startled by the sudden presence of the old woman. Brooke's eyes were bruised and full of fear.

Brooke frowned at the memory, but quickly shook it off and turned toward the dining area. The small café was packed for breakfast, as it always was. It was the best food in town. Myra had only three girls to waitress for her and two cooks, including Ms. Myra.

Brooke worked breakfast and lunch, the most popular times in the café. Myra cooked during those times. The other cook, Johnny, worked the dinner shift only. The other two waitresses, Danielle and Christie, worked the dinner shift and took turns alternating between breakfast and lunch for their other shift. The Moon Door Café closed between meals. Myra knew about Brooke's fear of the dark and knew why she harbored the fear, and therefore was extremely insistent that Brooke was home by night, although from time to time Brooke still volunteered for the evening shift as well. That's what she had done the previous night.

Brooke passed her co-worker, the same girl who had given her a ride to work, Danielle, and smiled. She liked the woman who was in her 30s, but didn't socialize with anyone enough to know them well. Brooke delivered the plates to the table and greeted the table with a brilliant smile. The whole table lit up at her presence. There were three couples, in their 40s. Brooke could tell they were just passing through the town and assumed the three Harley-Davidsons in the gravel parking lot belonged to them. They were just the type to take off on a Friday and cruise.

"Nice bikes," she nodded toward the parking lot. They beamed with pride.

"Thank you, little miss," the larger of the men said. Brooke could tell by his eyes that he was harmless and kind. She had become a great judge of character in the last two and half years. She thought about the blonde at her house probably still asleep and smiled.

"Y'all enjoy your breakfast and let me know if you need anything," Brooke nodded slightly and went to the next table.

She could hear the couples talking about her as she walked the way. One of the women said, "She's just gorgeous. Absolutely beautiful."

Another woman in the group followed with, "I'd kill for a body like that."

Brooke could feel their eyes on her as she began to set food down on the next table. She barely heard one of the motorcyclists say, "I'd kill for her body too."

She blushed with embarrassment and was somewhat relieved when the man's wife slapped him on the arm hard enough to make him stop staring. Brooke turned her attention to the two elderly people sitting at her next table. They were a couple, early 70s. Brooke had known them for over a year. Her sweet, slightly husky Southern accent perked up a bit at the sight of the couple.

"Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Marcus. How are you two doing? I haven't seen y'all around here for a week, I hope everything's okay."

Brooke's voice was sincere, as was her heart. Mrs. Marcus smiled and Brooke knew she had once been an elegantly beautiful woman, "Good morning Brooke. We've been visiting my sister over in Georgia. She's been suffering with pneumonia."

"Oh, I'm really sorry to hear that," Brooke said sincerely, "I'll pray that she gets better."

"When you say that Brooke we, know you truly will," Mr. Marcus beamed.

Brooke finished setting down the order and turned to a table with one customer. She immediately recognized the face smiling at her. She frowned as she poised her pen ready to take his order.

"Hey Brooke," his voice was uncertain, even apologetic. Brooke bit her lip trying to keep herself from saying anything in public she might regret.

She remained silent as she tapped her pen on the order pad in her hand. The young man looked at her sadly, "Okay. Still icing me out? That's fine. I can only continue to say I'm sorry and I've been changed so much by what happened."

Brooke's eyes widened at the insult to injury, "You changed? Try being me. I can't believe you'd come in here and try to sell me this crap, Mouth?"

Her voice hissed quietly and he flinched realizing he had said the wrong thing. He looked down at his hands folded on the table and then up into her hazel eyes again, "At least that got you to say something to me."

"I have nothing more to say to you," Brooke could barely hold the tears back, but she managed, "Now what do you want to eat?"

Mouth McFadden frowned and shrugged, "Coffee I guess. Black."

Brooke turned swiftly and rushed back into the kitchen passing Miss Myra on the way. The tears that had threatened to spill finally fell freely onto her cheeks. Miss Myra gently patted Brooke's shoulder and then pointed to the back door.

"Why don't you go on home for now? Take my car. You can come back for the lunch crowd. I'll serve him his coffee."

Brooke sighed tired of always being protected by Miss Myra and greatly thankful at the same time. She nodded and left. She walked out into the morning air and inhaled deeply. She wondered to herself how her life had gotten so hard.

She looked at her watch and saw that it was only 10 minutes after nine. She thought about the stranger in her trailer. Inexplicably she couldn't wait to get home to see what she was doing.

Play Hard

The Sony PSP in Peyton's hands began to bore the blonde. It was just a few minutes after eight in the morning and her fingers were twitching with the residue of withdraw. She had been drug-free for four days and every second of it had been hell on earth. She put the handheld game back in her duffle bag and ran her hands over her face. She stretched on the couch and decided to take a quick shower. The road grit was getting to her.

In Brooke's bathroom she looked around. For some reason she had expected to find a lot of pink, but was instead met by charcoal gray décor. It was tasteful and sophisticated. It was not what Peyton thought she'd find in the bathroom of a trailer in the middle of nowhere Alabama.

She stepped into the ridiculously clean shower and washed away the previous week. She thought about Jimmy Jones and her gut wretched with the things she had done. All in the name of addiction.

Once Peyton was dressed, she made her way to Brooke's room. She looked around curiously, taking note of every object. She found it odd that there were no pictures in Brooke's bedroom. Just a bed, closet, a desk, and two bookshelves. Peyton stepped to the bookshelves and looked over the titles there. It wasn't that Peyton was nosey by nature, but there was a mysterious air about Brooke, and Peyton felt like she should know more about her hostess.

She ran her finger along several paperback novels on the shelves of the one wooden bookcase in the bedroom. Peyton recognized several classics including _Journey to the Center of the Earth_, _Walden, _and _Catcher in the Rye_. She stopped when her finger landed on the spine of a leather-bound book. She pulled it from the shelf and opened it.

Peyton felt instantly guilty as she realized that it was Brooke's personal journal. She was torn between opening the diary and inhaling all the secrets her savior held and putting it back on the shelf without ever knowing anything. Peyton surprised herself when she placed it back on the shelf in exactly the same place she had found it.

Everything inside of her wanted to read it but something tiny, but good, shined through. For the first time in several years, Peyton wondered if she had a conscious.

She shook off the thought and turned toward the closet in the bedroom. Before she could convince herself that she shouldn't go through the kind stranger's things, she was opening the door. She wouldn't read Brooke's personal thoughts and feelings, but she would certainly snoop through the rest.

She looked around the closet ignoring the various blue jeans and t-shirts. The girl was definitely one-track when it came to fashion. Peyton stifled a yawn as her hand sought out the dark space beneath the hanging clothes. She felt the rigid texture of cardboard and realized she'd come upon a shoebox. It was the only one in the closet as far as she could see.

She pulled the box out, while memorizing its exact location. She sat back on her heels and quickly lifted the lid to the dusty container. Inside she was surprised to find a few more pictures, a small bible, a CD and a piece of stained red fabric.

Peyton's hazel eyes widened with curiosity. The pictures were the most intriguing to her. There were two pictures. Brooke looked to be the same age in both of them. One was of her in her cap and gown at her high school graduation. The other picture was of her in the same red dress as the picture in the living room. This time she was with a group of people. Brooke was standing in front of a very good-looking boy who had his arms wrapped around her waist.

Peyton looked from the picture to the fabric in her hand. Unexplainable chills shimmied their way up her back and across her neck. She grabbed the CD out of the box, replaced the lid and put it right back where she got it. She closed the closet door and returned to the living room where her duffel bag was sitting.

She opened the bag and withdrew her iPod. She pulled the headphones from the small machine and put them in the CD player in the living room. She shook slightly as she inserted the CD. Peyton wasn't sure what she expected.

A haunted melody played into Peyton's ear. It was a song she had heard maybe once before, but wasn't very familiar with. She listened carefully as a woman's vocals pushed the sullen music.

_**Dreaming comes so easily, because it's all that I've known**_

_**True love is a fairy tale, I'm damaged how would I know**_

_**I'm scared, and I'm alone**_

_**I'm ashamed and I need for you to know**_

_**I didn't say all the things that I wanted to say**_

_**And you can't take back what you've been taking away**_

'_**Cause I feel you, I feel you near me**_

_**I didn't say all the things that I wanted to say**_

_**And you can't take back what you've been taking away.**_

_**Cause I feel you, I feel you near me**_

_**Healing comes so painfully, and it chills to the bone**_

_**Will anyone get close to me? I'm damaged as I'm sure you know **_

_**I'm scared and I am alone**_

_**I'm ashamed and I need for you to know**_

_**I didn't say all the things that I needed to say**_

_**And you can't take back what you've been taking away**_

'_**Cause I feel you, I feel you near me**_

_**I didn't say all the things that I wanted to say**_

_**And you can't take back what you've been taking away.**_

_**Cause I feel you, I feel you near me**_

_**There's nothing for my soul, an end to this fear**_

_**Forgiveness for a man who is stronger**_

_**I was just a little girl, but I can't go back**_

_**I didn't say all the things that I needed to say**_

_**And you can't take back what you've been taking away**_

'_**Cause I feel you, I feel you near me**_

_**I didn't say all the things that I wanted to say**_

_**And you can't take back what you've been taking away.**_

_**Cause I feel you, I feel you near me**_

_**Can't go back**_

_**Can't go back**_

_**Can't go back**_

_**Can't go back**_

_**Can't go back**_

_**Can't go back**_

_**Can't go back**_

_**I must go on**_

_**I must go on**_

_**I must go on**_

_**I must go on**_

_**I must go on**_

_**I must go on**_

_**I must go on**_

Peyton exhaled slowly. The power of the lyrics slammed into her heart, making her feel something real for the first time in months, maybe even years. She fought the tears from escaping their prison and advanced the CD to the next track. Before the song could play, a voice startled her. She jerked the earphones from her ears and turned to see Brooke smiling at her from the front door.

"You scared me," Peyton said, her heart pounding in her chest.

Brooke eyed the girl curiously and then shrugged, "Sorry about that. I called out a minute ago but you were really into that song. What was it?"

Peyton quickly pulled the CD out of the player and shoved it into her duffel bag, "It's nothing, just a mix I made before leaving L.A."

Brooke eyed her carefully not easily forgetting the tears she had seen in the blonde's eyes when she had first turned around, "Do you want to go see Whitey Durham with me? I was thinking he could tow your car in for you."

Peyton thought about their current means of transportation, "How far do we have to walk?"

Brooke's smile was dazzling, her morning visitor forgotten as she felt an inexplicable comfort with the new stranger in her life, "We don't have to walk, silly. I have my boss' car."

Peyton nodded, "Well, then let's see this Whitey person."


	8. Getting Acquainted

8

Getting Acquainted

Peyton watched trees fly by as Brooke guided the car down a quiet country road. Her true intention was trying not to let her eyes continuously slide back to Brooke's face. Peyton found it difficult to not stare at the beautiful brunette. The real problem came in wanting to figure out the girl's deep darkness.

"So, Peyton," Brooke's voice broke through the blonde's reverie. "Got any friends or family that might be missing you?"

Brooke couldn't imagine that someone as interesting and vocal as Peyton would be alone in the world. She was proven wrong as Peyton shrugged and glanced at her with sadness in her eyes, "Not really."

Brooke had her speculation, but she also knew there would be time for that later. She turned off the county highway onto a shaded road that soon opened up onto a main street in downtown Mountain Creek. Brooke smiled at the smirk on Peyton's face.

"Go ahead, crack all the Mayberry jokes you need to, but it is what it is. Just don't blink, or you might miss it."

Peyton let out a laugh that lifted Brooke's spirits. She pulled into the parking lot of the garage. Peyton could see that her vehicle was already in one of the two bays of the garage. She was impressed with Brooke's thoughtfulness.

"Wow, when did you get this here?" Peyton directed her question to Brooke as an older man approached wearing a ball cap and an eat-dirt grin.

Brooke shrugged and threw a Peyton the cutest smile, "This morning of course. Whitey was at the diner for his usual three eggs, four slices of bacon, and almost burnt toast."

"Sounds like he's going to die of clogged arteries before he'll get my car fixed."

Brooke snorted and nodded toward the man standing outside puffing on a large cigar, "Not Whitey. The man is invincible."

They got out of the car and Peyton found herself feeling a little self-conscious as she scratched at her burning nose.

"Hey Whitey!" Brooke spoke with honest enthusiasm as the man hugged her. Peyton got a grandfatherly feel from the man, not that she knew what having a grandfather would feel like.

"Well, Brooke, looks like you've sweet-talked me into quite a challenge here," his voice was gruff but kind as he motioned toward the totaled car.

Brooke shrugged innocently, "Well, I thought you could fix anything?"

Peyton thought she heard a flirty tone coming from Brooke but then as she looked at her large hazel eyes realized that Brooke truly believed that this Whitey Durham could fix anything. She gave a slight nod to the old man as he looked her over.

"Guess you're the owner of this car?" He asked.

Brooke thought she detected a hint of suspicion in Whitey's voice and wondered if he had ran the plates or looked up the VIN number on the vehicle. Brooke watched as Peyton stared Whitey right in the eyes, a sure sign she was lying.

"Yes sir."

Whitey studied her for a minute more before letting it drop. He walked toward the vehicle and Brooke and Peyton followed somehow knowing they were supposed to. As he pointed to the various parts of the car he would have to fix, Peyton's mind wandered to whether or not she could obtain any drugs in the small town. She plotted as Whitey spoke.

After they had finished with Whitey, Brooke and Peyton headed toward the small grassy park in the middle of the even smaller town. They sat on the only bench around and sipped on glass bottles of soda. Peyton realized how peaceful it was around her and it both soothed her and unnerved her.

She looked over at her graceful host and realized that Brooke looked more unnerved than she felt. Peyton studied the brunette's face carefully as the other girl's eyes darted around searching the horizon for a sign of something not known to Peyton.

"Looking for someone?" Peyton finally interrupted Brooke's search.

Brooke closed her eyes and then looked down at her hands in her lap. She gathered her thoughts before turning her sad eyes to her new friend, "No. No, I don't guess I am."

Peyton was lulled by Brooke's thick voice and before she could prevent Brooke from changing the subject it was too late. She was asking Peyton if she'd like to eat at the café for lunch. Peyton agreed although she was suddenly very annoyed that she knew nothing about Brooke Davis.

Brooke stood up and grabbed Peyton's hand pulling her up, "Come on blondie. I've got some shopping to do."

Peyton followed like a lost puppy. Something she was beginning to feel more alike than not. She jammed her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket. They walked to a small grocery store across the street from the garage. Peyton smirked at the compactness of the town.

They entered the store and Peyton noticed a slight change in Brooke's demeanor as the cashier, a woman in her mid-20s, stared at her. Brooke went from caring and confident to suddenly looking like she didn't belong. Peyton felt her heart sink for the girl as she watched the cashier turn to her co-worker, whisper in her ear and then the two of them started laughing.

Peyton's anger soared as she realized they were talking about Brooke. Suddenly Peyton felt fiercely protective, loyal, and scared that she cared so much about someone she just met. Peyton stepped up to Brooke who had quickened her pace.

"What's up with the tabloid twins?" Peyton asked in a quiet tone.

Brooke shrugged and mumbled, "I don't know what you mean."

Peyton let it slide as Brooke got several items from the meat section, a few from produce, and a carton milk. As they approached the cashiers Brooke silently put the items on the conveyor belt. Although the store looked as though it had been around since the 30s or 40s it had been equipped with the latest technology.

Peyton eyed both the cashier and Brooke as though she was studying animals in the wild. The cashier was a predator and Brooke was the prey. Peyton's teeth grinded together as the cashier spoke.

"Hey Brooke Davis, been to any parties lately?"

The other cashier, who had been eavesdropping nearby couldn't stop herself from laughing aloud. Peyton turned her head sharply at the woman and gave her a look of death. The woman frowned and went back to placing stickers on inventory.

Brooke didn't say anything. Peyton felt a little angry that Brooke wasn't standing up for herself against whatever it was the woman was getting at. The cashier looked at Peyton and gave her a cocky smile filled with dare. Peyton decided it wasn't her place to defend Brooke. She didn't really even know the girl. All she did know was that the girl standing next to her was more lost than she ever dared to be.

As they exited the store, Peyton turned to the quiet brunette, "So, what was all that about?"

Brooke stopped and turned toward Peyton. She eyed the blonde for a moment while shifting the weight of the grocery bags in her arms. She began to turn away and then stopped turning back to a still-waiting Peyton.

"Look, it's a small town. People like to talk about things they simply don't understand. Those are just foolish women who have yet to mature. Do me a favor, if you hear anything, just ignore it."

Peyton said nothing as Brooke spun on her heels and began to walk toward her borrowed car. Peyton was stunned by the sudden, subtle outburst. She was even more stunned at how Brooke seemed to be a fiery windstorm of emotions in a neatly packaged time bomb.

She followed the brunette and remained thoughtfully silent on the ride back to the trailer to drop off the groceries. They sat down next to one another at the counter of the kitchen. Peyton was itching to ask Brooke what was going on with the local town talkers, but her itching nose needed to be scratched more.

"Want me to fix you a sandwich before we go to the café?" Brooke asked, her tone soft, friendly.

Peyton ran a shaky hand across her face, "About that…I think I'll just hang out here if that's okay. I'm kind of…I'm tired, that's all."

Brooke nodded, looking a little disappointed, "Okay. That's…yeah, that's fine. I better get dressed and head out though. You sure you're going to be okay?"

Peyton nodded and laid her head on the cold laminate surface of the countertop. She could hear Brooke shuffling through her closet. Peyton's heartbeat quickened as she remembered the CD in her bag. She would listen to it some more once Brooke was gone.

Brooke came back into the living room with a knowing look in her eyes. Peyton just smiled innocently. Brooke nodded and told Peyton she would see her at three. Peyton glanced at the clock and realized that was only three and a half hours away.

"Want me to do anything around here for you?" Peyton couldn't stop herself from asking. She felt like she owed this girl something for her kindness. Peyton had never felt like she owed anyone anything.

Brooke looked around, and then shook her head, "Nah. I'm off tomorrow and the next day. I'll get my chores done then."

Brooke threw her a goodbye and headed out the door. Peyton sighed and laid her head back on the countertop with a groan. She briefly wondered where she could get something to scratch her itch.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Brooke smiled gently at the older man sitting at the counter, "Hey Dr. Doug. Good to see you."

The man had kind brown eyes and grey hair. Brooke felt both at ease with him and incredibly nervous. She thought about the first time she had seen him. Miss Myra had taken her to the doctor within hours of finding Brooke at the bus stop. Dr. Doug had seen all of Brooke, and knew all about her.

"It's good to see you too Brooke," Dr. Doug spoke with sincerity and flashed Brooke his usual smile. "You been taking care of yourself?"

Brooke's accent was always thickest when she was around the older townsfolk, "Yes sir. Trying my best."

Myra put her hand on her hip, "This one here's going to run herself ragged if she doesn't slow down. Seems as though she's taken in a stray, too."

Brooke smiled as she playfully rolled her eyes at Miss Myra. Dr. Doug raised his eyebrows, "Dog or cat?"

"City girl," Miss Myra laughed as she wiped down the counter with a damp towel, "From Los Angeles, right?"

Brooke nodded, "Yes ma'am. She's just staying with me until Whitey can get her car fixed."

Dr. Doug smiled, "That's nice of you, Brooke."

Brooke shrugged and served a tray to a nearby table. When she saw that Miss Myra had gone in the back again, she sat down next to Dr. Doug.

"Do you know much about drugs and stuff?" Brooke asked, not sure how to approach the subject with the small-town doctor.

He smiled, "I stay educated. What's going on, Brooke?"

Brooke chewed her lower lip thoughtfully, "Well, my new friend, I think she may have, or may have had, a drug problem."

"Which drug?" Dr. Doug seemed concerned, but not judgmental.

Brooke decided to trust him, "I'm not sure, she just seems kind of, jittery, you know? I don't think she's taking any now. I think she's coming off of them."

Dr. Doug nodded his head, "You get that girl in to see me as soon as possible. Free of charge. She needs some transition care."

Brooke nodded and thanked Dr. Doug as Miss Myra came back out and leaned against the counter in front of the doctor. Brooke smiled as she glanced back at them. She knew a crush when she saw one.

"Hey Brooke," a girl's voice reached Brooke's ears before Brooke could see her.

Brooke wasn't sure if she wanted to smile or frown, so she settled for a look of surprise. It had been two years since she had seen the face in front of her.

"Shelley…" Brooke managed to find her voice.

Shelley Simon smiled, "Hi. I haven't seen you since…"

Brooke swallowed hard and frowned, "Yeah. Um…I heard you and Mouth are engaged."

"Yeah, we're just home for our engagement party. We head back to the university Sunday afternoon," Shelley paled slightly as she mentioned college as though she felt bad that she was in college.

"That's nice," Brooke nodded. She wasn't sure what Shelley knew or didn't know, and she really didn't have the strength to find out. "I better get back to work."

Brooke started turning away when Shelley grabbed her arm and turned her to face her. Shelley was now standing, her long blonde hair shining in the lights of the café, "Brooke, wait."

Brooke looked down at the hand on her arm, and back up into the scared face of an old friend. Shelley's voice was a whisper, "Brooke, I'm sorry."

Brooke's heart raced as her whispered voice matched Shelley's, "For what?"

"For that night, for not being there," Shelley swallowed hard and Brooke could tell she was trying not to cry.

Brooke walked away glad that the clock above the counter indicated it was time for her shift to be over. She never looked back for if she had she would have seen the tears falling from Shelley's regretful eyes.


	9. Hint of the Past

Author's Note: Sorry it's taking so long to get parts up, but thank you to anyone still reading this. I am going to finish the story and won't take short cuts. I will plan to write it the way I originally planned to. It just might take a while, that's all. So again, thank you to those still investing time in this story. It means a lot! -Jill

9

**Want to Party?/ A Hint of the Past**

Peyton paced back and forth in the bathroom as the urge for a hit grew stronger and stronger. It was getting dark outside and Peyton wanted to party. She had searched Brooke's cabinets and found no alcohol. She had searched the bathroom for medication she could use to take the edge off, but the only thing she found was an empty prescription bottle for prazosin. She briefly mulled over what the drug was for before she glanced at herself once more in the mirror.

Her thin body was made even thinner in the black leather pants and white tank top. She ignored the emaciated look and instead focused on her face. She saw no sign of life there. The circles under her eyes were growing darker. Her hair looked dull and lifeless.

She sighed and exited the bathroom. She was getting a glass of water just as Brooke opened the door. Brooke looked Peyton over and instantly knew that whatever withdrawal she was going through, it was bad. She smiled at her guest.

"Did you have a relaxing afternoon?"

Peyton swallowed the knot in her throat, knowing that she was going to lie, "Yeah, it was great."

Brooke wanted to ask Peyton what she had been using. She wanted to ask her how long she had been using. Instead, Brooke burst out in laughter as Peyton walked around the counter on the kitchen and her full body came into sight.

Peyton blushed red, "What's so funny?"

Brooke shook her head. She didn't want to be rude, but the laughter was persistent, "I'm sorry Peyton, but leather pants are a fashion don't in Mountain Creek."

Peyton rolled her eyes, "Whatever. Like I care what some hick thinks. I like my leather pants."

Brooke cleared her throat and tried to stop the laughter, "You're right. I'm sorry."

Peyton sat down on the couch, purposely positioning her hands beneath her so that Brooke couldn't see the tremors she was having, "So, is there anything to do around here? Like any kind of night life?"

Brooke frowned slightly, all humor gone from her, "You mean besides the possums?"

It was Peyton's turn to chuckle slightly, "Well if I were a thirsty possum, where would I go to get something to drink?"

Brooke shrugged, "I guess you could go to Randy's Tavern."

Peyton smiled, "Sounds southern."

"It is."

Peyton's cravings were getting the best of her, "Do you think I can score some blow there?"

Brooke's heart sank. Her hopes for her new friend were fading, "Blow?"

"Cocaine?"

Brooke grimaced, "I know what it is, Peyton. Even if I did know where to get some, I wouldn't tell you."

She stormed into her bedroom and slammed the door. Peyton exhaled slowly and rose from the couch. She knew she had both angered and alienated her hostess. She knew she had to make it right. She moved to Brooke's door.

"Brooke?" Peyton listed as she heard rustling in the room, "Brooke, I'm sorry. It's just…it's been several days, and I'm beginning to…look, there's a whole lot of stuff you don't know about me."

Brooke listened from her room as she slipped on her jeans and t-shirt. She shook her head as Peyton spoke, "No kidding, Peyton. You're a stranger."

Peyton received the words through the wooden door. She chewed her lip as she thought about what to say next. "Brooke, I want to…I want to get better, but I need a drink. I need some alcohol to take the edge off. Please, go out with me. Take me to the tavern and I swear I won't try to get any drugs."

Brooke could hear the desperation in Peyton's voice. She knew that alcohol was dangerous but not nearly as much as drugs. She let go of her anger and instead looked toward the ceiling. A silent prayer went to the heavens above. She opened the door to see a teary-eyed Peyton. Brooke was slightly relieved to see that kind of emotion in Peyton's eyes.

"Fine. We'll go, but just a few drinks. Deal?"

Peyton nodded, "Absolutely."

Without thinking she hugged Brooke and was thrilled to feel the hug returned. She felt as though she might actually have a friend in her otherwise devastatingly lonely life.

Brooke pulled away and shook away the nervousness from her stomach. She knew what possible trouble she could get into at the tavern. She knew who she might see.

"I'm just going on record as saying that I think this is a bad idea and against my better judgment, but I'm doing it for you."

"Cool," Peyton smiled, "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Brooke parked the borrowed car outside a crowded, run-down building. She glanced over at Peyton and almost laughed at the disappointed look on her face, "Not what you expected?"

Peyton shrugged, "Well…there's no chicks name Billy Sue and Bertha fighting in the parking lot, so that has to be a plus, right?"

Brooke rolled her eyes and chuckled, "Let's just be careful in here, okay? And Peyton, the bartender is the owner's wife. Her name is Billy Sue."

Peyton got out of the car laughing. Her laughter even made a very nervous Brooke giggle slightly. Gravel crunched beneath Brooke's tennis shoes and Peyton's heeled boots caused her to wobble slightly over the uneven terrain. They reached the door of the bar and as Peyton pulled it open she was struck with the mixed scents of cigarette smoke, alcohol, and loud perfume.

She perked up at the instant reminder of so many wild nights passed. Brooke, on the other hand, seemed to shrink further into herself, her posture becoming defensive and ridged.

Peyton strutted to the bar, turning more than a few heads as she walked. She slapped the bar and smiled at the bartender, Billy Sue. The woman, an overweight, tough-looking redhead, looked at Peyton with curiosity as well as disdain.

She took the cigarette out of her mouth and looked at Peyton, who had taken a seat at the bar along with Brooke, "What can I get you Miss Shiny Pants?"

Peyton blushed as she looked down at her pants. Brooke snickered. Peyton grinned, "Two shots of tequila."

Brooke protested the order, "I don't drink."

"I didn't order for you, B." She looked at the tequila falling into the shot glasses in front of her, "These are mine."

She slammed one back and let out a sigh of satisfaction. Brooke smiled shyly at Billy Sue, "I'll just have a Pepsi, please."

Billy Sue smirked at the two girls and then spoke to Brooke, "Good to see you Ms. Davis. Watch your friend tonight. We've got a bunch of roughnecks in here tonight."

"Yes ma'am, I will."

Peyton looked around and surmised there was close to 100 people in the bar, she turned back to Brooke, "It's bigger in here than it looks."

Brooke nodded and took a sip of the ice cold soda that had just been placed in front of her. She didn't dare turn around and look at all the people. She could already feel some of the stares burning into her back. Peyton glanced around again and notice some of the women whispering while looking in their direction. Peyton could tell that despite her out-of-place outfit, they were talking about Brooke.

"What are you to these people, Brooke?"

Brooke swallowed the knot in her throat, "What do you mean?"

"I mean that everywhere you go someone's paying attention," Peyton watched as Brooke's frown deepened. She watched as a myriad of emotions passed across the young brunette's face. Peyton knew that whatever Brooke's secret was, she was completely not drunk enough to handle it.

Brooke shook her head, "No one's paying attention to me, Peyton. It's your imagination. Drink up. You came here to drink, so get busy."

Peyton shrugged and silently asked Billy Sue for another shot. She slammed it back and waited for it to warm her up from the inside out. When it did she turned around in her chair and watched the people interacting. There was a pool table off to an open room to the right, there were arcade machines in the back of the bar. Plenty of tables for those who wanted to eat some snacks. There was also a medium sized wooden dance floor.

Peyton took in the various clothing choices the men and women of Mountain Creek and the adjoining county had made. The women mostly wore boots; cowboy, hiking, biker. They wore jeans and various shirt styles. Peyton knew she was overdressed and her quiet counterpart was almost underdressed in a plain white t-shirt and jeans.

The music was loud and very country. Just as Peyton was trying to learn the fast-paced lyrics of the current song, it switched to a slow song. She never listened to country but the lyrics were intriguing and she noticed that Brooke's eyes closed as she mouthed the words to the song.

_So damn easy to say that life's so hard_

_Everybody's got their battle scars_

_As for me, I'd like to thank my lucky stars that_

_I'm alive, and well_

_It'd be easy to add up all the pain_

_And all the dreams you sat and watched go up in flames. _

_Dwell on the wreckage as it smolders in the rain_

_But not me, I'm alive._

Peyton's heart saddened as she drew connections from the song to Brooke. Before she had a chance to be selfless and ask Brooke if she wanted to go home, a good-looking older man grabbed Peyton by the hand.

"Dance with me, doll," the man requested with a smile.

Peyton felt the need to move, even if it was to a slow song. She needed to be physically close to someone, anyone. It was what she did as a teenager with boys she barely knew. It was her way of seeking affection, with whoever was willing to give it.

Brooke turned to see Peyton moving onto the dance floor with Joe Bell, an attorney who worked and lived one county over. She hoped that Joe was too drunk to recognize her. She turned quickly back to her Pepsi.

Meanwhile, Peyton swayed with the rhythm of the music. She smiled as Joe put his cowboy hat atop Peyton's blonde curls. She could feel the liquor beginning to do its job. She knew it would take a lot more to erase the cravings she was having.

She felt Joe's breath in her ear, followed by slurred drunk words, "You shouldn't be hanging out with that girl."

Peyton felt angry but hid it behind a smile, "Why would you say that?"

Joe turned his blood shot eyes to meet Peyton's, "She's trouble. Caused a whole mess of lies and commotion not too many years ago. Just about got my boy, Sam, in trouble."

Peyton tried not to scrunch her face in confusion, but it was a matter of involuntary muscle movement, "She's that bad, huh?"

Joe nodded, "She's a total whore."

He shrugged and then hugged himself closely to Peyton's body. Peyton fought the urge to defend Brooke by kicking him. Instead she simply pulled away as the song ended. She threw him a half-smile and made her way through a fresh group of dancers wanting to boot-scoot-boogie.

She waved Billy Sue over to the bar and ordered the entire bottle of tequila. Brooke's eyebrows raised at the order and Peyton shook her head, "Look. After what that man was telling me about you, I need a lot of alcohol so I can process it all, or even better, not process it at all."

Brooke blushed and frowned. She glanced over her shoulder at Joe Bell and almost began to cry as she saw him slapping a young man her age on the back. He turned, his brown hair wavy and falling into his eyes. She swiped at the tears on the rims of her eyes. Peyton looked to where Brooke had been looking.

"Who's that?"

Brooke took a deep breath, "Sam Bell."

Peyton only briefly wondered what kind of back-story she was missing out on before she decided she was better off not knowing. She threw back a swig of tequila and moved back onto the dance floor. Brooke kept an eye out for her guest.

Two hours passed and Peyton was beyond drunk. She beginning to get very flirty with everyone around. Brooke wanted to slow her down, but she couldn't. It wasn't until she saw Peyton dancing with Sam Bell that she started to get angry.

Peyton danced a slow dance with Sam Bell. She was drunk enough to not be nervous, but not drunk enough to wipe the image of Brooke's sad face out of her mind.

"Hey Sammy boy," Peyton slurred slightly, "What's the fucking deal with Brooke Davis?"

Sam paled slightly but then smirked evilly, "You haven't heard?"

She shrugged, "Heard what?"

Sam spun her around on the dance floor and then caught her back in his arms, "She's delusional. She thinks she had sex with a few of us guys at a party, and then when none of us wanted to go out with her, she went to the police. Stupid bitch. She's just like her mom and sister from what I hear. Just white trash waiting to get her hooks in one of us guys with money. Claims she found God or Jesus or whatever. But you ask me she's still jones-ing for my buddy Rick."

Peyton's mouth was dry, there wasn't enough alcohol in the world to hear the things she had been hearing about a girl she had assumed was naïve and innocent, "Who's Rick?"

"Richard Harrison," Sam glanced at the door. "There he is now."

Peyton followed Sam's eyes and saw four young men standing at the threshold. They all stood as though they were untouchable. She followed their stares. Brooke was sitting with her back to the bar. She had not noticed them yet, but they had noticed her.

Peyton pulled away from Sam, "I've got to go."

She rushed to Brooke's side, grabbed her second bottle of tequila from the bar and pulled Brooke off the stool. She was rushing her and the brunette out the door when Brooke literally collided with Richard Harrison. Peyton felt Brooke shaking as she looked up at Richard's face.

Richard looked down, disguising his laughter with a devil's smile, "Hey there Brooke Davis."

Brooke's face was drowning in emotion. She and Peyton pushed through the group of men without a word and made it to the car. They got into the vehicle, buckled their seatbelts and drove back to Brooke's trailer with no sounds passing between them.

Peyton wanted to talk to Brooke, but she wasn't sure where to start. She did know that Brooke's problems were bigger than her own, and for some reason that gave Peyton a feeling of wanting to protect Brooke. She searched out the Brooke's face as they sat on the couch together. Peyton drinking straight from the bottle she had taken from the Tavern and Brooke sitting quietly beside her.

They sat like that, in an awkward silence, until finally, Peyton slipped into sleep. Brooke exhaled slowly. She was on automatic as she covered Peyton up with a blanket and gently took the bottle from her hand. It reminded her of so many mornings and nights with her alcoholic mother.

She wondered briefly if Vicki was still alive and if Lisa was doing okay. She shook the concern out of her mind. She slipped her shoes off and knelt by her bed. So many thoughts and prayers jumbled up in her mind. She didn't try to control the tears. Prayer was about honesty. When she finished, she left her bedroom door open and got into the shower.

Peyton licked her dry lips as she turned on the couch. She had heard the shower turn on and listened intently as she heard sobs coming from behind the particle-board door. She passed out before she could begin to wonder what the hell was happening.


	10. Hangovers and Halos

10

Hangovers and Halos

"What the hell?" Peyton groaned miserably as she shielded her eyes from the sun coming in through the blinds.

Brooke frowned from the kitchen. She walked quietly to the couch with a glass of orange liquid in one hand and a few pills in the other. She sat on the coffee table. She blocked the sun giving Peyton the opportunity to open her eyes a little wider. The blonde tried to smile at the brunette but the pounding in her head made it painful to operate her facial muscles.

"Here," Brooke spoke softly, like wind over water, as she handed Peyton the glass and pills.

Peyton eyed the drink suspiciously and cleared her throat, "What's this?"

"An old family remedy," Brooke looked down at her now empty hands, "My mama used to make it. Seemed to help her. The pills are just Tylenol."

Peyton nodded and despite the slightly sour smell of the drink she gulped it, and the pills, down without incident. Brooke almost smiled at the belch that came from the skinny blonde. But even the embarrassed look on Peyton's face could bring about anything comical for Brooke.

They sat in silence until Peyton could no longer stand the awkwardness, "Kind of a weird night, huh?"

Brooke nodded and chewed on her bottom lip. She said nothing forcing Peyton to continue, "So…I don't remember some of the evening but seems like those guys that showed up…seems like they get under your skin."

Brooke's teeth grinded tightly against one another. She knew that Joe and Sam Bell had probably propagandized Peyton with their untruths.

Peyton looked at Brooke, waiting for an answer, "Brooke?"

Brooke stood up and moved away from the couch and table, "People believe what's easiest to believe, so if you need to believe anything you heard from the Sam Bell, then you go ahead. Nothing I can do about it."

Peyton could see the defeated slump of Brooke's thin shoulders. She set the glass on the table and ignored the pulsing pain in her temples as she stood up. She was barefoot still wearing the tank top and leather pants. She wreaked of alcohol and cigarettes.

"You could stand up and tell the truth."

Brooke sighed, her voice never changing from the small, quiet tone. She turned to Peyton, "It's not easy to stand up with the truth sometimes, Peyton."

Peyton could see the tortuous storm brewing in Brooke's soulful hazel eyes. Peyton was staring at someone far more lost than she imagined and yet the voice that came from the girl was the absolute opposite. It unnerved Peyton to see a girl with such a calm giving outward demeanor whose eyes belied the truth; Brooke Davis was on the verge of a meltdown.

Brooke's control intimidated Peyton, it made her envious and frightened all at the same time. Brooke's maturity was something Peyton had always faked and never achieved.

Brooke walked back to the kitchen and slid some fresh bread into the toaster, "I'm going to fix you something to eat so you won't get sick."

Peyton ran a shaky hand through her mess of curls, "Yeah…thank you. That would be good."

She was almost afraid to look at Brooke but she couldn't in good conscience let the previous nights events go unquestioned. Her curiosity was outmatched by her concern.

The blonde stood up and sat at the counter. She took in the dark circles under Brooke's beautiful eyes and knew her hostess had not slept.

"Brooke?" Peyton's voice was tentative, almost bashful.

Brooke turned and looked at the thin blonde. She wanted to tell Peyton everything she could, but something in her couldn't trust someone who would dance flirtingly with Sam Bell and then practically throw her to the wolves at the exit.

Peyton swallowed the knot in her throat, "What is it with those guys, Brooke? With this town?"

Brooke braced herself against the counter, her hands gripping the edged tightly. Her breath caught in her throat. Finally as a wave of nausea passes she turned again to Peyton.

"Look, Peyton. No offense but I've only known you a few days. You couldn't possibly care enough about me to really want to know. And I don't talk about things just to satisfy someone's curiosity.

Peyton flinched despite the kind tone of Brooke's words. She wasn't dismissing Peyton and she wasn't being harsh. She was stating a fact. Peyton knew she had flinched because Brooke was wrong. It wasn't strictly curiosity that motivated her line of questioning, in her deepest heart she cared for Brooke. Someone she had known only a few days. She truly wanted to be her friend.

The thought scared Peyton. She jumped off the stool and grabbed her duffel bag, "Okay, then tight ass, I'm going to get in the shower. I won't ask anything again. Just know I've got your back if you need someone."

With that Peyton disappeared into the bathroom. Brooke's stoic posture quickly dissipated into trembling. She knew the longer Peyton stayed the harder it would be to hold herself together.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Brooke tried to let the previous night fade away as she pulled on a pair of brown leather work boots. She had been reminded by the calendar that she had hanging on the refrigerator that today was a charity work day.

Brooke exited her bedroom to see Peyton folding clothes and repacking her duffel bag. Peyton looked at Brooke, "Guess I'll have to do laundry soon."

Brooke pulled open a door that Peyton had assumed was a closet. Inside was a stacked washer and dryer, "Feel free to use it."

Peyton nodded, "Thanks."

Brooke nodded and sat on a stool at the bar, "Listen. I'm sorry about…well, everything. I don't want to talk about it, I've made peace with it, and there's no need to bring up what's already over."

Peyton paused from her repacking and gave Brooke a once over. Peyton had only ever had one friend, but she knew people, and everything in Brooke's demeanor said that whatever had happened was far from over, and that Brooke Davis was as far from peace as the Middle East.

"No problem," Peyton said taking the easy route.

Brooke smiled bashfully, "I have an appointment I need to go to, if you want to go along."

"What kind of appointment," Peyton asked, once again curiosity digging into her.

Brooke grabbed the keys from the counter, "Come with me and you'll see. Might even change your life."

Peyton knew another day of watching garbage on TV and listening to Brooke's depressing, albeit intriguing, Mix CD would drive her insane, "I'm game."

Peyton wondered how long it would take to get to Brooke's appointment. They had been in the car for thirty minutes. Peyton couldn't imagine anything being more backwoods than Mountain Creek, and yet they drove deeper into the country.

Trees whizzed by and Peyton felt lightheaded. She knew the alcohol from the night before was still trying to work its way out of her system. She also knew that it was only prolonging the inevitable crash.

Before Peyton could ask where Brooke was going, Brooke turned onto a gravel driveway that went on several hundred yards before coming to a dirt parking lot outside a beautiful columned three story plantation home.

"Whoa," Peyton admired the architecture, "It's just like Tara."

Brooke laughed, "Not quite. It's a children's home."

Brooke watched as Peyton's face fell slightly, "Children's home?"

Brooke nodded, "Yeah. When kids come from bad homes a lot of times they are troubled and too much for DHR to handle, or foster parents, so Doc takes them in here."

"Doc?" Peyton inquired.

"Dr. Douglas Grayberry. We call him Dr. Doug."

Peyton nodded and followed Brooke up the sidewalk to the house. Brooke didn't ring the bell, but instead went right inside. Peyton wasn't sure if she should follow. Before she could ask, Brooke grabbed her by the hand and pulled her into the foyer.

"Hello?" Brooke called out. "Dr. Doug? Are you here?" Brooke's voice gave Peyton a sense of security and warmth. She looked at the beautiful girl and smiled at her. Brooke returned the smile and Peyton could see some joy in her eyes.

"Brooke Davis? Is that you?" An elderly man's voice echoed from somewhere in the back of the house, "We're out at the barn, just about to get started. Come on out."

"Brooke, what kind of an appointment do you have here?" Peyton asked uncertain of her place.

Brooke pulled Peyton along, "We're going to think about people other than ourselves for a while."

Peyton wasn't sure she liked the sound of that, but she allowed herself to be pulled out the back door and into a gorgeously manicured back lawn with sixteen children running around squealing with delight. Peyton guessed their ages were between two and fifteen. Boys and girls.

"He takes care of all these children by himself?" Peyton whispered as they approached the group by the barn.

Brooke shook her head as she eyed the children with love, "Of course not, he has a live-in housekeeper, who also happens to be a trained nurse and amazing with children."

"I bet they're doing the deed, huh?" Peyton smirked.

Brooke slapped her playfully on the arm, "You're crude and no they're not. Dr. Doug is too smitten with Miss Myra down at the café to be interested in Betsy. Besides, that's Betsy and the man she's married to…Mr. Mike. Happily married."

Peyton looked to where Brooke was waving and saw a gorgeous young African American couple lovingly paying attention to several of the children.

"Mrs. Betsy and Mr. Mike both live here with Dr. Doug. He loves the company and considers them to be his children. Besides, Mr. Mike was raised here at the home."

Brooke studied Peyton's face, "You look confused."

Peyton shrugged, "Just figured this far in the South, there'd be more…"

Brooke frowned, "Racism?"

Peyton nodded embarrassed by her assumption, "Sorry, it's just…the media and…"

"Can't believe everything you read or hear, Peyton. Trust me, you'll never get a full truth that way. Racism is everywhere today, not just in the South. When humans can stop judging people on their exterior and start loving their interior…that's when we'll have a solid foundation."

Peyton laughed, surprising Brooke, "What's so funny?"

"Sorry, it's just, 'when humans stop judging…' yadda, yadda, yadda. You're spouting rhetoric, it's cute."

Brooke wasn't sure if Peyton was trying to be mean, or was really amused by her depth. She rolled her eyes at the blonde and reached her arms out as Betsy pulled her into a hug.

"Hey Betsy, how've you been?" Brooke hugged her tightly.

Betsy Hanover pulled away from Brooke and held her at arms length, "Let me look you over, girl."

After a few miserable seconds of being scrutinized Brooke smiled, "Well?"

"Hmm…" Betsy seemed to ponder, "Dr. Doug, we need to feed this girl, and she don't look like she's slept a wink in forty nights."

"Aw, now Betsy don't go tellin' on me," Brooke frowned.

Dr. Doug draped an arm around Betsy's shoulders as he too studied Brooke, "You do look a little overwrought, Brooke. Everything been going good?"

"Sure Doc," Brooke looked at Peyton, "Oh, by the way, this is Peyton. She's been staying with me for a few days, and will be staying with me until Batey gets done piecing her car back together."

Mike Hanover chuckled as he walked up to the group, "Hope you like Mountain Creek, Ms. Peyton, Batey is infamous for taking his sweet time."

Everyone but Peyton laughed. She was suddenly lost in thought about how long she could stay in one place without her troubles catching up to her, or simply catching her.

Peyton caught back up to Brooke' voice and realized she was being introduced to everyone. She cordially shook everyone's hand and when she shook the doctor's hand she realized that he was trying to diagnose her on the spot. She knew Brooke must have spoken to him at some point during her stay.

They maintained a casual, light-hearted conversation until a few more good neighbors showed up. Brooke grabbed Peyton's hand and explained to her that they were there to work. She explained how every year a small group got together with the kids and overhauled the land, the barn and the house. There was usually a minimum amount of work and it was a great excuse for barbecue.

Peyton's mouth watered with the smell of barbecue as she cleaned out a stall of one of Dr. Doug's horses. She had been working with a six year old little boy who had made her laugh on more than one occasion with his knock-knock jokes.

She kept tabs on Brooke, often straining her neck so she could see the brunette out in the yard. On more than one occasion Peyton saw Brooke laughing and playing with a beautiful two year old boy who had hair as dark as Brooke's and dimples just as deep. Brooke's face was relaxed and her guard was down while she spoke to the children and Peyton could tell she truly loved each and every one of them and that they had looked forward to their visit with her.

When the work was done, Brooke's muscles ached and she knew that her guest was exhausted, but she was surprised to see how relaxed the blonde was. She and a six year old were laughing heartily at the end of the dinner table.

Peyton complimented Mike and Betsy on the food more than several times. It was the most Brooke had seen Peyton eat. She felt whole at the table with her friends, the few she had, and her guest, someone she hoped was a friend in the making.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Brooke had hated to say goodbye, but she knew how tired Peyton was. She had seen Peyton and Dr. Doug talking quietly by themselves and she wondered if Dr. Doug had prescribed anything for Peyton.

Before Brooke could ask Peyton about it, Peyton's voice broke the silence, "Brooke, was that your son?"

Brooke's nose scrunched in confusion, "What?"

"That little boy, the youngest one, the one you were always with…is he yours?"

Brooke was quiet for a little while before answering honestly, "He could have been I suppose. But I've never had any children Peyton."

"Why do you do it then?"

"What?" Brooke asked in return.

Peyton turned in the seat wanting to watch Brooke's face as they spoke. She found comfort in Brooke's voice and presence, "Why do you work with those children? Why do you care? And what did you mean by 'he could have been' yours?"

Brooke was uncomfortable with Peyton's questions but a large part of her needed to answer them, "I was pregnant."

Peyton's stomach flipped as she waited for more, and Brooke did continue, "I was pregnant a couple of years ago and I…"

Peyton wasn't sure what can of worms she had opened until she saw the tears falling from Brooke's saddened eyes.

"I was pregnant and I knew there was no way in the world I could…there was no way I could bring that child into this world."

"You…you had an abortion?"

Brooke nodded, "It wasn't easy. Despite the circumstances surrounding that child's conception, it still wasn't easy to kill that baby."

Peyton thought about everything she knew so far about Brooke Davis, "You don't believe in abortion, do you?"

Brooke let out a sigh, "Two wrongs don't make a right. But I wasn't judged by Dr. Doug, and I would never judge another woman."

"Dr. Doug? He performed the procedure?"

Brooke nodded, "He…he's helped me a lot."

"So you help these kids out of some misguided sense of atonement?" Peyton asked.

"Nothing misguided about bringing love to children who need all they can get. That little boy who had you laughing all day...well his daddy beat him within an inch of his life when he was just three years old. His mama was too busy gambling too care. Said she couldn't stand him anyway. He was left in the system because of his useless parents. It's got to hurt to know what your own parents didn't want you."

Peyton fought her tears. She was bound and determined to feel nothing, "But he seems so happy."

Brooke nodded, "Sure he does, he's been with Dr. Doug, Mike and Betsy for three years. He saw more love in his first week here then he ever had before."

"So there's no atonement then on your part?" Peyton didn't want to push Brooke too hard. After all, Brooke had finally opened up enough to be honest with her about something that obviously caused her pain.

"Maybe," Brooke admitted, "But God forgives."

"Do you?" Peyton asked, not sure where the questioning was going.

Brooke thought seriously about the simple question. She knew the real answer, but shrugged, "I try."

Peyton had one more question, but wasn't sure she should ask. She knew she might as well, the worst thing Brooke would do was shut down for the night, "The baby you were going to have…who was the father?"

"I'll never know," Brooke answered honestly. Peyton was surprised by the answer and as she thought about what Sam Bell had told her, she wondered how true the stories were. She wanted to ask Brooke more questions. She wanted to know the whole story behind the girl with the dimpled smile and the fear in her eyes.

But instead of asking more questions, Peyton made a gesture completely out of character for her. She reached out and held Brooke's hand that was resting on the seat. Brooke looked surprised as she took her eyes off the road long enough to glance from her hand to Peyton.

Peyton was affected deeply by the glimmer of tears in Brooke's eyes. She knew when she looked at Brooke that the struggling girl was truly one of God's fallen Angels. And Peyton knew that while Brooke had fallen, she was still most certainly in God's good graces.

They both looked toward the road ahead, neither one letting go of the other's hand.


	11. Learning to Care

11

**Learning to Care**

Peyton smiled at Whitey, "Look Whitey. I know you're finished with it, but can't you please find something else wrong with it?"

Whitey wiped his brow and looked incredulously at Peyton, "Little missy, I've already had that vehicle in here for a week and a half, what's your angle?"

Peyton shrugged, "No angle, sir. It's just that…well, I want to buy some time. I…I've kind of found a purpose here, and I want to stay. I want to help Brooke."

Whitey eyed Peyton cautiously, "Now what makes you think Brooke needs help?"

"Well, could be that this town talks about her left and right, and it appears to me that no one is standing up for her. Maybe it's time someone did."

"Well, Ms. Sawyer, could be you should leave well enough alone with that West Coast pop-psycho-babble. Could be that we've all been here for Brooke and it's by her choice that nothing ever gets done 'bout the way people talk."

Peyton scrunched her eyes at Whitey, "Could be that's the biggest load of shit I've ever heard."

Peyton walked away leaving Whitey scratching his chin trying to figure her out. Whitey called out to her, "Could be that your manifold is cracked and to order the part could take at least two weeks for it to come in."

Peyton turned back to Whitey, "Could be you're one fine man Mr. Whitey Durham."

She turned away with a smile and began the long walk to the café, three miles outside of the small town. As she walked she thought about how she and Brooke had not really talked again about what had been revealed on the way home from Dr. Doug's house. It had been almost a week and they had fallen into a semi-routine of Brooke going to work and Peyton pacing around the trailer trying not to read Brooke's journal despite the devil on her shoulder.

They watched TV at night, or read magazines. They even played several board games. They had talked small talk, both dancing around any issues affecting their lives. Brooke didn't ask any questions about Peyton's past and Peyton didn't ask any questions about the mystery surrounding Brooke Davis.

She jammed her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket. The day wasn't chilly by any means and yet a cold chill crept up Peyton's back. She looked around and realized that she was nearing the spot where she had first met Brooke.

Her eyes scanned the sides of the road nearby and fell immediately upon a concrete cross on the shoulder of the right side of the road. As she neared the two foot high cross she wondered who had died there. She had seen the markers before scattered along interstates and highways. People who had died in car accidents, were hit by drunk drivers, or just fell asleep at the wheel. They were sad reminders that life was too short to waste.

Peyton thought about all the things she had done in her life and tried to figure out why she had never died, despite drinking too much, doing too many drugs and hanging out with the worst kinds of people. She knew that there was a reason, and sooner or later she would figure it all out.

That pondering led her to the thought of Brooke again. A selfless soul in the midst of hell. She could see the story unfolding without ever knowing a single word of what had happened. She knew that what the people in town were saying couldn't possibly match what really happened. She knew that Brooke Davis was an enigma and yet wore her heart on her sleeve.

Peyton thought about the journal on Brooke's bookshelf in her bedroom. She had wanted to read it so badly and yet something had stopped her again and again. She knew she wanted Brooke to trust her, to like her, to be friends with her. She knew she needed Brooke to care about her and in their short time together, Peyton had come to call Brooke a friend.

Haley James slipped into Peyton's mind as tears slipped onto Peyton's cheek. She quickly swiped them away. She didn't want her present time to be about her past aches. She would correct her mistakes later.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Brooke smiled and Ms. Myra eyed her suspiciously, "Why Brooke Davis, what has gotten into you?"

Brooke shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know Ms. Myra, maybe it's the sunshine, or the lack of humidity."

Ms. Myra cocked her head to the side and laughed, "Maybe it's that new friend of yours."

Brooke looked at her thoughtfully, "Maybe. She does have this light about her, despite the demons she's battling. It's been nice to have someone to just hang out with…laugh with."

"We all need a good friend, Brooke, especially when we have demons of our own to battle."

Brooke's smile dropped but only for a second as she accepted Ms. Myra's words for truth, "All I know Ms. Myra, is this lunch crowd is extra busy today, and without Danielle or Christie coming in until the dinner shift, we should probably stop yapping and get to working."

Ms. Myra smirked, "Well, now, who owns this place?"

Brooke followed Ms. Myra into the dining area of the café. Brooke carried a pitcher of sweet tea to the nearest table. She chatted momentarily with the older ladies at the table before turning to see another group coming in the entrance. The diner was filled to capacity and she, Myra and the cook were the only ones there.

She was beginning to feel the suffocation of the crowd and the smile she had been wearing shortly before was now a deep frown. Her throat felt closed off and her heart raced. Brooke felt the walls closing in on her and knew from the books she had read that she was about to have a panic attack. Crowds affected her.

She inhaled deeply the familiar scents of burgers and fries, sweet tea and coffee. Just as she was about to give up and run to the back to recover, the door opened and a breath of fresh air blew in. Brooke looked up and her frown found its way into a smile again. Peyton stood at the entryway, hands stuffed into her jacket looking around.

Brooke waved to her and suddenly Peyton's face was filled with a smile as well. Brooke knew then that it was indeed good to have a friend.

Peyton approached the brunette in the waitress uniform and sat down on the last empty stool at the counter, "Could you spare a cup of coffee for a homeless girl?"

Brooke scoffed, "You have a place to stay, goof."

Peyton shrugged and smiled as Brooke put a mug in front of her and filled it with the hot, black liquid, "True. So how's your day going?"

Brooke looked around at the crowded diner making her point. Peyton took a sip from the mug set it down and hopped off the stool.

"Consider me back up," She spoke with enthusiasm.

Brooke looked Peyton over and shook her head, "I'm willing to bet you've never worked a day of your life."

Peyton frowned at the challenge knowing how true it was, "Maybe, but it's me or nothing."

Brooke looked around again and back at the blonde in front of her, "Well, I guess we could use some one to clear the tables."

"I'm your girl."

Brooke threw a glance to Ms. Myra, "What do you say, Ms. Myra? Can Peyton help us out today?"

Peyton looked pleadingly to Ms. Myra and Myra smirked at her, "So you're the stray, huh?"

Peyton nodded not really sure if the term "stray" was an insult or not, "Yes ma'am I am. So what do you say, want some help?"

"Grab an apron from the back room," Myra scowled, "And if you break any of my dishes you'll owe me."

Peyton scurried to the back to find an apron. She passed the cook working hard over the grill. She gave him a polite wave of her hand and he simply nodded his head to her.

She finally found them hanging on the wall of a small office. She glanced at the walls of the tiny room that held a small desk and desktop computer. On the walls hung many framed pictures. Some were very old, and some more recent. Her eyes landed on a picture of Brooke blowing out candles on a cake. Peyton could make out the writing on the cake. It was Brooke's 19th birthday.

Peyton wondered how someone so beautiful could look so sad underneath it all. She slipped off her leather jacket and hung it on a peg on the wall. She tied an apron around her waist and grabbed the plastic deep pan from the cleaning area. She slipped back into the dining area and watched Brooke as she spoke to customers. Peyton noticed that no matter how much Brooke smiled or laughed it was never in a flirtatious way.

Brooke motioned for Peyton to clear a table that had just become unoccupied. Peyton quickly piled the dishes into the tub, wiped the table down with a rag that Ms. Myra threw her and moved on to the next table. Thirty minutes later she had hauled the full tub to the sink twenty times. All the while she kept her eyes on Brooke. She could see the cautious way Brooke spoke with people she didn't know albeit kind and generous. She could see how guarded Brooke was with the male customers.

Ms. Myra stopped several times to commend Peyton on her hard work and thanked her for volunteering her time. Peyton smiled and shrugged, "Just a way to help out you and Brooke, kind of as a thank you to her for letting me stay while my car's getting fixed."

As the lunch crowd thinned out and then was virtually gone, Peyton relinquished her plastic tub and apron. She sat once again at the counter. Since there were only two lingering customers in the café, Brooke and Myra felt relaxed enough to rest their elbows on the counter opposite of Peyton.

"So Peyton," Brooke smiled, "What did Whitey say about your car?"

Peyton fought the grin she always had when she was lying, "He said that my exhaust manifold or something like that is cracked and it would take at least another week to fix it."

Brooke's smile widened, "Good. I wasn't quite ready to get rid of you yet."

"Oddly, I'm not quite ready to leave either," Peyton admitted honestly.

The last two patrons left their tip on the table and thanked Ms. Myra on their way out the door. They all settled down at a table over sweet tea and still-warm rolls. Peyton blushed as her stomach growled. She had been so busy she hadn't realized how hungry she was. Brooke laughed, "Good thing you're hungry."

She motioned toward the door leading to the back. Peyton looked up to see Johnny, the cook, coming in with a big tray of food. Fries, burgers, and chocolate shakes were set down on the counter. Peyton counted three of everything.

Brooke looked to Johnny, "You aren't eating with us today?"

He shook his head and in a quiet voice for such a large man he said, "The missus has me some beans and greens at home."

"Lucky you!" Brooke smiled and then looked down at the food, "But I got to say, your cooking is hard to beat."

They thanked Johnny, and after he left, Peyton reached for the fries. She felt the sting of a slap on the back of her hand. She quickly pulled her hand back and looked up to see Ms. Myra looking at her with disdain.

"We say blessings around here before we eat our food."

Peyton nodded and bowed her head. Brooke volunteered to say the prayer. Peyton listened intently as the brunette began.

"Lord, thank You for this food, and thank You for the very busy day we've had, as it ensures us another day of business. Thank You for Peyton and for her giving us her time today. Thank You for the blessings of friendships. Especially the ones that last a lifetime. Jesus, please keep us all safe on our way home and please keep us close to Your heart as you will be close to Ours. Amen."

Ms. Myra handed Peyton her plate with a smile, "Now, blessings have been said, how about some gossip."

Brooke laughed, "Ms. Myra, you're too much."

Myra shrugged and looked at Peyton, "So, tell me skinny girl, what brought you form Los Angeles?"

Peyton chewed her fry slowly trying to think of an answer. Brooke intercepted the question, "Ms. Myra, she's just traveling through."

Myra shook her head and held her hand up to Brooke, "No one 'just travels through' Mountain Creek, Alabama."

Brooke knew that when Ms. Myra wanted to discuss something there was no point in trying to dissuade her. Brooke looked apologetically at Peyton and Peyton shrugged.

"Honestly, Ms. Myra," Peyton swallowed the food still in her mouth, "I'm running."

"From what," Myra was like a dog with a bone.

"From whom, actually," Peyton admitted, "But I'm not going to involve anyone else. Besides, we're all running from something at some point in our lives, aren't we?"

Brooke admired the way Peyton maintained eye contact with Myra. It was as though the blonde wasn't afraid of anything. Brooke's curiosity began to pique. Before Peyton could reveal anything else, Myra changed the subject.

"So what do you girls have planned for the evening seeing how Brooke here has the next few days off?"

Brooke and Peyton looked at one another and shrugged. Plans had not been discussed. They continued to eat while making small talk and discussing the celebrities that Peyton had met before. Before too long they were finished and ready to make the trek back to the trailer.

On the way home, they passed the concrete cross that Peyton had seen earlier. She remembered to ask Brooke about it, "What happened here?"

Brooke looked at the cross and Peyton could see a variety of emotions reflected in her hazel eyes, "Lots of rumors about that, but in this town a definite, true scenario is never given."

Peyton thought about the things that could be affecting Brooke and how she'd yet gotten a straight answer, "Tell me about it."

"Well a woman was murdered here, apparently around the time I was born," Brooke frowned, "At least that's the basic story. You can ask a million different times and get a million different answers as to who did it, why they did it, and how they did it. The most common response is that the woman was killed by her lover when he realized she wasn't going to leave her husband, ever."

"Kind of romantic," Peyton whispered absentmindedly.

Brooke looked at her from the corner of her eyes, "Twisted if you ask me."

Peyton nodded, "That too."

"The other version is that the woman was murdered by her husband when he found out about the affair."

"More likely, if you ask me."

Brooke shrugged her shoulders, "There's also a less popular rumor that there was never an affair and the husband just killed her and then covered it up using the town martyr."

Peyton thought about how Brooke was kind of like a martyr in the town. They tried to beat her down and she just turned the other cheek, "Do these people have names."

Brooke nodded, a look of lament in her eyes, "The woman was Georgia Harrison."

Peyton stopped walking, "Harrison?"

Brooke turned to look at Peyton, tears on the rims of her eyes, "Yes. Harrison, as in Richard Harrison's mother."

Peyton slowly took a step realizing that Brooke was tied to all these people in one way or another. She just wasn't sure how. She knew that if her theory about what happened to Brooke was right, then Brooke's darkness was set in motion years before she was born. Richard Harrison had grown up motherless and there was no telling how that could affect a young man.

"Well, who was the man that she allegedly had an affair with?" Peyton was more than intrigued.

Brooke's face deepened with the sadness that was always there, "His name was Keith Scott."

"You seem like you know him," Peyton stated.

Brooke shook her head, "No. But his nephew…I knew him. He was my best friend."

"Were you and this nephew like lovers or something?"

Brooke paled at the mention of 'lovers'. Peyton realized it was something Brooke did every time someone brought up physical intimacy. Peyton watched Brooke's reaction and saw something deeper than embarrassment.

"No. Luke and I were…we were like brother and sister. You know? I loved him, he loved me. But not in that kind of way. We hung out and had dinner and we grilled steaks all the time and we were family. Not once did he ever think of me in that way, nor did I think that way about him."

"Brother and sister, check," Peyton said making sure Brooke knew she got the point.

"Besides, after…well, we didn't really know each other long before…" Brooke stopped talking in order to wipe away the few tears that had fallen.

Peyton's brow creased, "Before what?"

"Before he died."

Peyton thought about the picture of the beautiful young man on Brooke's end table in the living room, "The picture, the blonde haired boy. That was Luke?"

Brooke nodded, "I miss him."

"What happened to him?" Peyton wanted to know more.

"Another story for another day," Brooke avoided.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Peyton looked at Brooke sitting on the couch watching one of the hundreds of crime shows that was always on TV. Brooke looked back at her and smiled, "You look nice."

"Thank you," Peyton smiled back. She had chosen to skip the leather pants and instead had opted for jeans and a t-shirt. She had been elated to find out the she and Brooke had the same shoe size when Brooke pulled out a pair of ranch boots for her to wear earlier.

"Are you sure you don't mind going out alone?" Brooke asked

Peyton looked at Brooke covered with a soft blanket, the picture of Luke sitting on the table next to her and already dressed for bed in yoga pants and a black t-shirt.

Peyton shook her head, "I don't mind, and I promise I will be careful and won't drink much."

"You're a grown-up, Peyton. Do what you want."

Peyton nodded, "That's what I want. I want to go out for a little while, explore the area and then come home."

Brooke looked happy with Peyton's choice of words. She thought about the car outside, "Sure was nice of Whitey to bring you a loaner, huh?"

Peyton nodded enthusiastically, "I just wonder how he knew I could drive it."

Brooke smiled, "Probably the leather jacket."

Peyton touched the hem of her jacket and looked back at Brooke, "Don't dis the gear."

Brooke rolled her eyes, "You'll have to tell me the story someday of how you learned to ride a motorcycle."

"No story, really," Peyton neither frowned nor smiled, "Just some guy."

Peyton looked at her watch, "Guess I'll get going."

Brooke smiled slightly. It had been two weeks since she had spent any time alone at night and it wasn't really something she was looking forward to, "You be careful and I'll be here when you get home."

Peyton smiled at the idea of home, "Okay."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Randy's Tavern was perfect for a woman on a motorcycle. Peyton dropped the kickstand stand and slid off her helmet. Her blonde curls bounced free and fell against her shoulders. She studied the parking lot and found fewer cars than when she and Brooke had been there.

She pocketed the key to the cycle and walked into the bar like she owned it. Peyton's confidence had never been lacking despite her history. She looked around and saw an older crowd than she had the previous time. She pulled up a stool at the bar and ordered a tequila from Billy Sue.

The two women next to her laughed, "Got yourself a hardcore girl tonight Billy Sue."

"Shut it Vicky." Billy Sue grumbled, "Girl's okay. At least she looks out for her friends."

Peyton was surprised to hear the bartender talking about her with compliments. Peyton looked over the woman next to her. She was older. Pretty but Peyton could tell she had been around the block too many times to count. As she studied the woman more, Peyton saw a resemblance to Brooke. The other woman stared back at Peyton.

"What you looking at slim?" She slurred.

Peyton could tell they were both drunk and wondered if she looked that stupid when she was wasted. She smiled at the two women, "Sorry, I'm new around here and just looking for some folks to party with. My name's Peyton Sawyer."

The older woman turned her nose up slightly at Peyton and then shrugged it off. She offered Peyton her hand to shake, "My name is Vicky Davis, and this is my daughter, Lisa."

Peyton caught the last name with no problem. It registered with her immediately and she knew beyond a doubt that these people were related to Brooke.

"Davis, are you related to that waitress chick at the Moon Door Café?"

Peyton didn't want them to know she knew Brooke. Vicky rolled her eyes, "I gave birth to her, but I never could relate to her."

She and Lisa laughed in their drunken stupor. Lisa frowned as she took another shot, "My half-sister was always too good for us. Had big dreams of being some kind of doctor or something."

Vicky laughed, "Yeah, stupid whore. She even got some big college scholarship or something but threw it away on some boy."

"Or boys," Lisa laughed, "Turns out she was not only not better than us…she was worse."

They both cackled like hyenas at the expense of Brooke. Peyton found herself becoming angry and as she caught the 'calm-down' stare from Billy Sue, she checked herself.

"She had a scholarship?" Peyton asked as though that information had just registered.

"Oh yeah," Lisa spoke again, "Full ride to University of Alabama at Birmingham. Pre-med too."

Peyton slammed back her shot and asked Billy Sue for a Corona. She knew she would have to keep it light in order to make it back to Brooke without being drunk.

"So…why doesn't she hang out with you two. You seem fun enough."

Peyton watched as several men came through the door. Vicky smiled solicitously at them and Peyton wanted to hurl. She found herself praying to the same God that Brooke prayed to all the time, asking Him to not let her look as slutty as these two, ever.

Vicky cleared her throat, "She doesn't hang out with us because she claims I was abusive. Stupid girl. She should understand how hard it is to be a single mom raising two girls."

Lisa rolled her eyes and turned up another shot. Peyton could tell she didn't buy into Vicky's sob story. She wondered how different Lisa would be if her mother wasn't influencing her words.

"And that Brooke, she wasn't like my Lisa here. She was always trying to make things more dramatic than they were. I'd pop her in the mouth for smartin' off and you'd think I'd beat her to a pulp. Too much like her father you ask me."

"Where's her father?" Peyton asked realizing that Lisa and Vicky were so drunk they didn't even notice that Peyton was only asking about things related to Brooke.

Vicky took another shot and laughed, "Sorry bastard's in the state pen."

"Jail?" Peyton was surprised. Brooke had said that her father had died long ago and that she had never known him.

Vicky nodded her head, her watchful eyes surveying the room, "Yup. Told Brooke he died to protect her. But he's been in prison since a few months after she was born."

"What'd he do?" Peyton sipped from her beer.

"He killed that rich lady," Vicky said. "That Harrison woman. Some kind of lover's quarrel or something. I don't know."

Peyton had to physically command her muscles to keep her jaw from dropping, "I heard this story. I didn't realize there was someone in prison for it."

"Old story, Slim," Vicky slurred, "Lot of people just choose to say what they want to and leave out the parts they don't care about. Like how there's a man in prison for murdering that poor rich lady."

"What about the husband, Mr. Harrison, could he have been the one to really kill her?"

Lisa laughed, "Sounds like you've been talking to Brooke. All the Harrison men are monsters according to my dear allegedly-virginal sister."

Peyton thought about the abortion that Brooke had confessed to her. She knew that the story was so much more than one town could keep straight. As an outsider, Peyton felt almost compelled to figure it all out, if only to give Brooke a sense of identity.

"So Brooke's dad, he's in jail and not dead?"

Vicky nodded, "Yup. He'll be there 'til he dies."

Peyton slid off the stool. She wasn't sure what she was going to do with the information. She knew she didn't want to tell Brooke yet until she could confirm it. She thanked Billy Sue, left her a tip, gave Vicky and Lisa an eat-it grin and left the bar.

The ride home was quiet and filled with all the information that Peyton had been given by the Davis women. Brooke's mother and sister were wretched people, and Peyton found herself hating the way they talked about Brooke. She found herself being proud of the who Brooke was.

When she got to the trailer she could see the glow of the television through the curtained windows. She shut off the motorcycle and walked quietly into the trailer. Her heart filled with ache as she witnessed a dreaming Brooke asleep on the sofa.

Peyton could see the fear etched on Brooke's face even with her eyes closed. Peyton sat on the coffee table and smoothed Brooke's hair down. Brooke seemed to calm slightly at the touch but still clutched the blanket tightly.

Peyton grabbed another blanket and a pillow from Brooke's bedroom and made herself a place to sleep on the floor next to the couch. She had a feeling Brooke would need her, and she wanted to be there for her. Peyton found herself caring more about Brooke than the urge to get a hit of coke.

Peyton fell asleep knowing that it was possible to care about someone else more than she cared about herself.


	12. Creek Confidential

Author's Note: I know it's been forever and a day, but here I am, and this story is not forgotten…it's actually so close to my heart that it's all I think about, but getting the time and energy to write it…that's the hard part. Thank you to anyone still interested, you are very appreciated!!!! Anyway, here it is.

12

Creek Confidential

Brooke looked down at the impossibly positioned blonde on the floor of the living room. Her heart quieted with the knowledge that she had been protected throughout the night. Brooke tiptoed over her still-new friend and walked outside.

The morning was still fresh, the sun barely peeking over the horizon. The nightmare that had awakened her had managed to dull her senses and allowed her to withstand the chill in the air. She sat on an Adirondack chair in the front yard and closed her eyes listening desperately for signs of peace, and goodness.

Her hearing focused on the calls of the Yellowhammers in the nearby woods. She thought about the previous week and a half and her mind landed on the girl asleep inside. Brooke knew it wasn't just an accident that Peyton had wrecked her car that night. She knew it wasn't an accident that it had been that particular black truck that had run them both off the road. She knew it was fate and she knew that the very thing she didn't want to do was the one thing God was telling her to do. Go back, heal, then move forward.

Brooke just wasn't sure she could do what God was asking of her. Peyton's face came into her mind and she knew that there was more to it. She wasn't supposed to heal just herself, she was supposed to help Peyton as well.

Brooke had been so still and quiet that she startled greatly when a branch snapped in the woods. She sat up her eyes searching out the source of the sound. Her heart pounded. She stood up ready to go back inside when a glimpse of camouflage flashed past a large oak further into the woods.

Brooke took a deep breath. She briefly debated whether it was an early hunter or if she was being watched. She wrapped her arms across her chest and turned to go inside. As she turned she ran right into Peyton.

Brooke turned and looked toward the woods and then back to the blonde, "I was…"

"I saw him," Peyton answered giving Brooke relief that she wasn't just being paranoid, "Do you want me to go check it out?"

Brooke shook her head, "No. No, that's okay. Hunting season's coming soon. Probably someone getting started a little early."

Peyton looked skeptically toward the woods, "Do you see hunters a lot near your place?"

Brooke looked back as well fear building in her body, "No."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXxx

"Okay, Brooke," Peyton tied her shoes and looked up at the brunette, "What else do we need from the store?"

Brooke called from the bathroom, "I put a list on the counter."

Peyton slipped the paper off the counter and read over it. The usual items were there, milk, bread, peanut butter, and more. Also on the list was the word "prescription" written under the header "pharmacy."

"Hey Brooke, which pharmacy do you use?"

Peyton could hear Brooke laugh, "The only one we have in town."

Peyton smirked. She had seen the small pharmacy when she had visited Whitey the morning before, "Will they let me pick up your prescription for you?"

"I'll call ahead and let Harold know you're coming," Brooke said as she exited the bathroom looking fresh and clean in blue jeans, bare feet, and a white tank top. A long-sleeve button-up white shirt hung loosely over the tank top.

Peyton realized how much Brooke resembled an angel. Her dark hair, and perfect skin, her eyes with the mix of all of God's colors were awe-inspiring.

"Do I have something on my face," Brooke looked self-consciously at Peyton.

The blonde shook her head, "No. Nope. Just wish I had your skin."

Brooke shrugged almost bashfully, "Nothing wrong with yours, goof."

Peyton turned away to hide the blush, "Okay, are you sure you don't want to go?"

"I really need to get some things done around here this morning, but how about this afternoon we can do something fun?"

Peyton nodded, "Sounds good."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Brooke waited until she heard the sound of the motorcycle roaring down the road before she began to ponder the idea of how Peyton was going to get groceries home on a motorcycle. The thought made her laugh out loud.

Brooke sat down on the couch, fatigue taking over her. Sleep wasn't really sleep when it was inundated by massive nightmares and trivial, vivid dreams. She sighed and looked out the window. An eerie feeling grew as she thought about the man in camouflage that had been in the woods earlier.

She stood up and locked the door, not wanting to take any chances. Her hands trembled as illogical flashbacks assaulted all of her senses. She moved shakily to her bedroom and sat down wishing she had gone with Peyton.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Peyton stepped into the pharmacy and smiled. It was small, not like the Walgreen's and CVS's where she grew up. It had basic necessities and the pharmacy counter, which also had the old chrome stools where a malt shop was once a part of the store.

Peyton stepped up to the counter and tapped the bell lightly. A gentle-looking elderly man came shuffling from around the corner. His whole face lit up as he smiled at Peyton.

"You must be Peyton," he said with a scratchy voice.

Peyton nodded, "Yes sir, how'd you know?"

"Young lady, I've been around for many years…you're not someone I know, so by reason of deduction, you must be Peyton. Well, that and Brooke called and described you to a Tee."

Peyton smirked and paid the man as she reached for the prescription, "Thank you Harold."

He tipped his head at her and shuffled back to his work. Peyton looked down at the bag in her hand. As she stepped outside she pulled the medicine bottle from the bag and read the name of the drug. It was the same as the empty bottle in Brooke's bathroom. Prazosin.

Peyton chewed her bottom lip wanting to know what the drug was for. She didn't want to invade Brooke's privacy but her curiosity was killing her. She peered across the small main street area and was shocked to find an internet café.

"Will wonders never cease?" She whispered to herself.

Peyton walked in and smiled at the woman behind the counter, "Good morning."

The woman smiled lazily, "Morning. Need to use the internet?"

Peyton nodded, "Yeah, how much?"

"Got to buy some coffee or give a credit card."

Peyton pulled a five dollar bill from her back pocket and gave it to the woman, "One coffee please."

Peyton sat down at the nearest computer. She was surprised to see how fast the connection was. She had honestly expected dial-up speeds in the dial-up town. She let her fingers get busy. She typed in the name of the drug into the Google search bar and waited for the results.

The first result was Wikipedia's entry. She clicked on the link and began to read all about the medication used to treat high blood pressure. She felt slightly more relieved that Brooke didn't have a major condition and that it could just be blood pressure problems. The her relief turned to sadness as she continued to read and found that Prazosin was useful in the treatment of nightmares and other issues stemming from post traumatic stress disorder.

"PTSD," Peyton whispered, "Damn it."

Peyton took a deep breath and decided that since she had a few extra minutes she would send an email to Haley James.

She logged into her gmail account, typed vigorously for a few minutes and hit the send button. She felt a little better having apologized and explaining why she disappeared.

Peyton grabbed her coffee from the counter and exited the café. She looked at the grocery store and prayed the town gossips weren't working. As she finished her coffee she entered the grocery store. It wasn't busy at all, but Peyton still felt crowded. The wolfish grins of the same two girls smiled back at her.

As she collected the few things from her list she could feel their eyes on her. She was neither intimidated nor nervous. She was more or less angry. She finished up her shopping and took her basket to the counter. As she placed the items on the conveyor belt, she stared back at the cashier.

"What?"

The cashier shrugged and glanced at her friend, "Nothing. I was just wondering how you do it?"

Peyton clenched her jaw, "How do I do what?

The gum-popping woman leaned in a little like she was telling a secret, "How do you live with the town whore of Mountain Creek?"

Peyton resisted the urge to punch the woman in the face in exchange for getting answers to Brooke's past, "Why do people say that?"

"Because she slept with all them boys that time."

The other girl, who had been listening, intervened, "Yeah, you should really be careful who you stay with. She tried her best to screw up my little brother's name but it didn't work. She is Jezebel incarnate."

"Who's your brother?" It made Peyton sick to have to pretend to care.

"Will Lynch," the girl smiled proudly, "He was a football star in high school, now he's got his own construction business over in Prattville."

Peyton's stomach churned. She now heard of three boys that Brooke had allegedly been with at the same time. She wondered if there were more.

"So who were all these boys she messed with?" Peyton asked.

The cashier was fully engaged in the conversation now, so happy she had found someone to reel in with her gossip, "Well, it was Will, that cuter than cute, Richard Harrison, Sam Bell…um…"

The other girl finished for her forgetful friend, "Greg Sinclair and Hunter Banks."

The head cashier nodded, "Yeah, them two as well. Poor boys just thought they were getting lucky. That's what happens though when you have sex with the town whore."

Peyton frowned and paid for the groceries, "You ladies have a nice afternoon. Thanks for the heads up."

The anger inside of Peyton swelled beyond control. She wanted to hit them, she wanted to tear something up. Instead she got on the motorcycle with the few plastic bags of groceries and headed back to the trailer.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Brooke finished packing the sandwiches into the cooler. She was placing a couple of ice cold sodas in there as well when she heard the roar of the motorcycle. She was happy that Peyton was home. She had been fighting off flashbacks since Peyton had walked out the door and had finally focused her attention on the task of planning a picnic.

She looked up with fear in her eyes as the front door slammed open and a fiery Peyton stepped in through the door. She placed the bags on the counter with a thud and looked at Brooke with flames in her eyes.

The look both intimidated and frightened Brooke, but she stood still, "What happened?"

Peyton rolled her eyes, "What happened? I'll tell you what happened. I made the mistake of listening to those bitches at the grocery store. Damn it, Brooke. What the hell?"

Brooke's hands began to shake again as she wondered what Hattie Franklin and Laura Lynch had felt the need to say to Peyton. She took a deep breath and lifted her eyes to meet Peyton's. They had not calmed at all.

Peyton waited for Brooke to say something but got nothing. Brooke turned away from Peyton too scared to speak. She simply put away the few bags of groceries and looked hopefully at the cooler on the counter. Peyton was too glued to her current conversation to notice it.

"Brooke? Why do they call you that? Why is everyone in this town so against you? Why do you let them say the things they do about you?"

Brooke had never been asked those questions directly. She knew the answer, "It's easier."

Peyton's eyes softened as she heard the tremendous pain in Brooke's whispered answer, "Easier than what?"

Brooke maintained eye contact with Peyton despite the urge to run away, "It's easier than going back. It's easier than going back to that time, that place."

"What happened to you Brooke?" Peyton grabbed one of Brooke's hands and held it tightly.

Brooke's lips trembled with the fear of speaking and her hand trembled with the truth. Peyton's voice calmed even more as she mentally kicked herself for being harsh with Brooke.

"Brooke, please, trust me."

Brooke pulled her hand away from Peyton, "Let's go."

Peyton watched as Brooke grabbed the cooler off the counter and walked around the counter, "Go where."

Brooke stopped at the open door with her back to Peyton, "Let's go back. Back to where it all started."


	13. The Party From Hell Flashback

13

The Party From Hell (flashback)

Peyton stopped the motorcycle at the end of the dirt road. Brooke slid off the back with ease and Peyton followed her. They were looking out on a beautiful lake, larger than Peyton would have imagined in the small town of Mountain Creek. The colors of fall were brilliant and in every shade. There was a semi silence enveloping them. Peyton could hear a soft wind caressing the surface of the water and she could hear leaves rustling in the trees.

She looked to Brooke, who was staring over the water, her arms wrapped across herself, protecting her from something not seen. Peyton's heart pounded as she watched the brunette's face change into an expression of deep despair.

Brooke turned her teary eyes to look at her new friend. Peyton held her gaze for a few seconds before Brooke took a deep breath and looked away toward the woods behind them. Brooke began walking toward a worn path that led deep into a timber blanket of orange, red, yellow, brown and green.

Peyton allowed Brooke to get several steps away before she began to follow her. They had not said one single word since leaving the trailer. Brooke had merely pointed the way to the lake.

The silence grew heavier as they continued further into the blanket of trees. Peyton looked up and saw the sun streaming through various holes in the cover of leaves. It was magnificently beautiful. She looked ahead to Brooke who seemed to navigate the path as though on autopilot.

Within a hundred yards or so, they reached an old log building. Brooke stopped short of the entrance. Peyton took a moment to absorb the building. She could see that a large portion of the roof was missing. There was no door hanging on the hinges that remained and only two windows which were, surprisingly, not broken.

There was an energy Peyton didn't like coursing through the woods and around the building. It was suffocating, almost evil. She thought about her mother, remembering how much Lillian believed in the energies that people left behind.

She looked to Brooke again and saw that her whole body seemed to tremble. Peyton swallowed the knot in her throat and managed to choke out some words.

"What is this place?"

Brooke seemed startled by Peyton as though she had been so lost in a memory that she had forgotten her companion. Brooke sat on one of the two steps leading into the building.

"This is the place where I lost everything…"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_**"Come on Brooke!" Shelly Simon smiled across the dirt parking lot. Her blonde hair was illuminated by the full moon.**_

_** Brooke smiled back as she shut the door to Richard's car. She practically skipped to where Shelly stood beside the water with Trey, Mouth, and Theresa. The water reflected the light of nearby headlights and a rather large bonfire. The early summer heat was just bearable enough. Brooke smoothed down her red dress and took a can of Pepsi from the large cooler next to Mouth's car. **_

_** Mouth smirked, "Thought of you when I packed those."**_

_** Brooke whispered thank you to him as she popped the top and took a sip. He nodded and opened bottles of beer for himself and Shelly. Everyone knew that Brooke Davis never drank alcohol. She was glad she could be herself around the friends she adored. **_

_** She felt a warm arm slide around her waist. She looked up into the smiling face of her date. Richard Harrison was everything Brooke had wanted in a date. He was charming and polite, cute and seemingly considerate. **_

_** Brooke soaked in the sights and sounds of the entertaining chaos around her. Music blared from a speaker system of someone's car while kids danced crazily around the fire. Some kids were daring enough to swim in the lake despite not being able to see snakes or other slippery creatures.**_

_** Brooke took her eyes off the people at the party and looked up at Richard who was staring back down at her. She caught a glimpse of something different in his eyes, but before she could fully interpret the glint, Richard was raising his beer.**_

_** "I want to make a toast," His voice was strong and confident as he squeezed Brooke's waist just a little more tightly in a flirtatious manner making her blush. **_

_** Sam Bell joined the group, "What are we toasting to man?"**_

_** Richard smiled devilishly at his friend, "To Brooke. She's one of the most gorgeous girls I've ever met. And her beauty is matched by her intelligence and kindness."**_

_** Sam looked at Brooke lasciviously making her frown. He raised his bottle as well "Yeah! I'll second that. Brooke Davis is one hot bitch."**_

_** Richard shook his head and looked apologetically at Brooke. She simply shrugged and turned her attention to elsewhere in the crowd. She recognized most of the football team, all of the cheerleaders, some of her peers from various study groups. The entire senior class was in one area. **_

_** Several hours passed and the fun was non-stop. She and Richard had danced until they were breathless. Shelly and Mouth slow-danced to every song. Brooke knew they were in love and was so happy for both of them. She looked at Richard and knew she didn't feel that for him, despite having a huge crush on him. **_

_** Richard smiled at her and spoke loudly toward her ear, "Hey, there's this cool place in the woods. Want to follow the path and see it?"**_

_** Brooke felt her intuition perk up, but tamped it down in exchanged for some time away from the loud music, "Yeah, just let me tell Shelly where I'm going."**_

_** "Don't worry about it," Richard said, pulling Brooke by the hand, "I already told her."**_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Peyton was kneeling on the ground in front of Brooke. Brooke could tell every word she spoke was being given very considerate attention. It unnerved her, and made her feel special all at the same time. She looked around the area after not being able to shake the feeling of being watched. She saw nothing out of the ordinary.

She stood and stepped to the threshold of the building. It seemed like a lifetime since she had been there, a naïve, trusting girl with hopes and dreams. In reality it had only been a little over two years; two years of fear, two years of being held captive by one single night.

Today freedom would be found in the telling of the story. It was a night of details she had only ever revealed once, and that one time had been revealed to someone who died because of it.

She looked back at Peyton who was now standing behind her. Brooke could feel her support. A girl she had only known a few weeks and she trusted her completely. Peyton was pale, her hands gripped into fists at her side. Brooke knew she could have just said the few words it would take to relay her story. She knew it didn't need to involve details. She could spare herself the pain, spare Peyton the knowledge, but a voice low and quiet urged her to continue, to tell Peyton.

Brooke looked to the sky again. She knew that despite the events that had occurred the night of graduation she had never been alone. Tears escaped her hazel eyes and flowed gently to the coolness of her cheeks. She inhaled deeply and as she exhaled she stepped across the threshold.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_** Brooke stepped through the hole where a door might have once stood. She looked back at Richard, "What is this place?"**_

_** "It's an old camp from back in the civil war days. I think maybe it was an outpost or something."**_

_** Brooke could smell rotting wood mixed with summer foliage, "It's neat, but it's kind of dark in here. At least the moon lights it up a little thanks to the holes in the roof." **_

_** Richard passed Brooke and disappeared into a dark corner of the single room. She watched as the room was suddenly awash in light as he turned on a lantern. Suddenly her intrigue of Richard Harrison quickly changed to trepidation. On the floor of the building was a single dirty mattress. **_

_** Brooke looked at Richard wanting to believe something better. Her fear was validated as she saw the menacing look in his eyes. **_

_** "Richard…I…" Brooke stammered as she took a step backward.**_

_** He shook his head, "Come on Brooke. You know you want to be with me. It's all over your face. Surely you expected something like this. We all know how your mom and sister are. I'm sure the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."**_

_** Brooke was disgusted. She took another step back and was suddenly pressed against someone. She turned in fright and found Sam Bell staring back at her. **_

_** "Don't know about you bro," Sam said to Richard, "But this is one apple I want a bite of."**_

_** Richard laughed as Sam pushed Brooke toward him. He caught her and held her in a bear grip. Brooke struggled against him.**_

_** "Aw, come on Brooke. Have some fun with us, please?" Richard practically growled in her ear.**_

_** Brooke called for help hoping that someone else would come along. She felt herself being shoved downward onto that dank mattress that had ignited her fear in the first place. She had barely registered the motion when Richard positioned himself on top of her. **_

_** "Please don't. Don't do this."**_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Peyton sucked in a deep breath as she stared down at the mattress. It was rotted and the springs were showing from years exposed to the elements, but some of the fabric remained and judging by the stains on the mattress Brooke had endured hell.

She looked at Brooke, who also stared down at the mattress. Peyton slipped her hand into Brooke's. She was surprised that Brooke didn't shy away from the contact but instead seemed to pull strength from it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_** She could smell the alcohol on his breath. She caught glimpses of Sam Bell, cheering giddily from beside the mattress. He put his bottle of beer down long enough to help Richard hold Brooke down. **_

_** "Get off of me. Please stop. Stop!" Brooke screamed and pleaded, but nothing would stop them.**_

_** "Get some of that Rick!" Sam laughed as Richard struck Brooke across the face with the back of his hand.**_

_** Her red dress was pushed up, her underwear torn away. Their athlete's muscles were too strong for her thinness. Her whole body ached from fighting them. She continued to scream as Richard raped her. She tried to hide within her mind, but everything was so vivid, so painful that she kept being jerked back into the hellish reality.**_

_** As Richard finished she could hear Sam give an excited yell, "Son of a bitch, Ricky baby, you totally popped that."**_

_** Brooke's tears were indescribable. Her pain was cataclysmic. **_

_** Richard laughed as he high-fived his friend, "I really didn't know she was a virgin. Score points for me."**_

_** As Sam nudged Richard out of the way he let go of Brooke long enough for her to try to push herself off the mattress. Richard laughed at her and pushed her down again taking his turn at holding her down. Brooke continued to fight not sure what else to do. His fingers dug into her arms while Sam's knees dug into the flesh of her legs. Sam was greedier and more violent than Richard had been. Brooke's screams were primal, that of an endangered animal being torn to pieces.**_

_** Brooke could hear laughter and footsteps. She glanced at the doorway long enough to see Will Lynch followed by Greg Sinclair and Hunter Banks. Will looked slightly surprised but then started laughing.**_

_** "Holy shit, dudes. Why didn't you invite us to this private party?"**_

_** Brooke could barely breathe with the realization that no one was going to stop them. She blacked out seeing Sam Bell's face and then came to again minutes later to see Will's face above hers, his grunts terrorizing her very soul.**_

_** "No, no, no, no, no…" She continued to beg for mercy. Will punched her in the face elicitinganother scream, and then he back handed her. She could feel the bursting pain across her eyes.**_

_** She was barely conscious when Will stood up, "Who's next?"**_

_** Hunter looked uncomfortable but Greg seemed mesmerized, "I'll go, but not here. I want her outside."**_

_** They all slapped his back like he had scored at a football game. Brooke lost consciousness again and this time came to underneath the moon, the stars, the trees and Greg Sinclair. She could feel twigs, leaves, and thorns stabbing her in the back as he shoved his weight against her. She knew she was outside. She looked around for a way to defend herself and through her swelling eyes she saw Marvin McFadden. **_

_** She felt hope for the first time in over an hour. She looked again only to see Mouth running away. Her attention was brought back to the hell that was as Greg got off of her. She thought they were finished and remained catatonically still waiting for them to leave so she could escape. They laughed as they took swigs of a fresh six pack of beer. Richard Harrison poured a bottle all over Brooke. **_

_** She gagged as some of the bitter liquid fell into her mouth. Tears fell involuntarily as she felt the cold liquid soak her naked body. **_

_** "Who wants to drink that up?" Sam laughed. **_

_** "Hey Hunter didn't get a turn," Will said as they turned their attention to the hesitant boy. **_

_** Hunter shook his head, "I'm good."**_

_** Richard threatened, "Bullshit, man. You're taking a turn or you're out."**_

_** The boys teased and cajoled until finally Hunter Banks unzipped his pants. Brooke's crying, which had quieted, began again. Hunter shakily got down on top of Brooke. Brooke looked at him with cold dead hazel eyes, pleading for him to not do what the others had done. **_

_** Her voice was whispered, every ounce of pain evident, "Please make this stop. Please."**_

_** Greg's face was where the others couldn't see him. With tears in his own eyes, he mouthed the words to her, "I'm so sorry."**_

_** And then, as though sorry would make a difference, he raped her too.**_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Brooke looked down at the spot on the ground where the last of five boys said he was sorry and then did it anyway. She had felt almost sorry for Hunter Banks…almost. She was afraid to look at Peyton. She was afraid to see the disgust, shame, and ridicule she had seen when she had tried to tell her mother and sister about what happened. They had laughed and called her a whore. The people in town had called her one too.

She exhaled a shaky breath and glanced up at Peyton. Peyton was crying, silently. She looked at Brooke and Brooke was astounded to see only concern, caring, even compassion. Something she had rarely seen outside of Miss Myra and those at Dr. Doug's house.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_**When she came to again, the moon was gone and birds were singing in the trees above her. Dawn was approaching quickly. The terror still coursed through her veins leaving her hypersensitive to every sound. She could feel the soft fabric of her dress beneath her. She pulled the dress out from under her and staggered to sit on her knees. She examined the dress with shaking hands. The straps were torn the front ripped all the way down the middle and up the side. She gagged as she let the reality of it all truly sink in. **_

_** She sobbed with relief and fear as she looked around and realized she was alone in the woods. She looked behind her and saw the log building. The gagging finally became throwing up. **_

_** Minutes passed as she tried to get the strength to stand up. She found herself leaning against a tree. And then stumbling to another. In her exhaustion and confusion she couldn't find the path. She was ready to give up when she heard a soft voice calling to her. **_

_** At first she was afraid, until the kind features of Shelly Simon came into view. Brooke began to cry again and fell to her knees, filled with relief, and with shame at the same time. **_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"That's the story," Brooke whispered, wanting and needing to hear Peyton speak.

Peyton cleared her throat trying not to let tear escape. She couldn't believe in the short time she had been in Mountain Creek just how deeply she had come to care about Brooke Davis. Peyton opened her arms in a fashion she was not accustomed to and was relieved, even hopeful when Brooke readily stepped into them.

It was a hug Brooke needed, had craved for years. Miss Myra had tried to understand and in a grandmotherly way she comforted Brooke, but no one had held her like that before. As though she could be free from all of it. As though she was worthy.

Peyton held Brooke and Brooke sobbed. After several minutes they made their way out of the woods and back to the motorcycle. Silently they drove back to the trailer. Peyton still had questions but she knew there was time for answers later. Right now, she wanted to give Brooke the one thing she needed the most. A chance to sleep with the knowledge that someone was looking over her. Someone that wouldn't hurt her, and wanted nothing from her.


	14. Peyton Actually Cares

14

Peyton Actually Cares

Brooke startled awake, relieved to see sunlight still streaming through her bedroom window. She heard the soft breathing beside her and turned to see Peyton asleep. Brooke remembered telling Peyton about the nightmare that had happened to her. She slid off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. A shower was just what she needed.

Peyton heard the water turning on. She sighed as she opened her eyes. Images of Brooke screaming for help tore through her imagination, so she stood up and tried to chase them away with movement. Peyton let her hand linger on the bathroom door as she passed it on the way to the kitchen. She had never met anyone like Brooke Davis. She was strong and courageous, so badly damaged and yet so oddly optimistic.

Peyton admired Brooke, even more now that she knew the whole truth. The water turned off and Peyton quickly entered the kitchen. She retrieved a can of soda from the refrigerator and popped it open. She thought about how good a line of coke would taste instead of a can of Coke.

She quickly blocked the thought from her mind and watched as Brooke entered the room wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Peyton felt a confusing since of conflict when she looked at the shorter girl. Her feelings were that of anger as well as compassion, protection, and sympathy.

"Hey," Brooke's voice was barely above a shamed whisper.

Peyton frowned, "Hey."

Brooke shook her head, "I shouldn't have told you."

Peyton's anger eased enough to let her compassion shine through, "No, Brooke. Please don't say that. I'm glad you told me. I'm glad that you aren't carrying this by yourself and that you trusted me enough to share it with me. I'm just…I guess I just don't understand."

"What don't you understand?" Brooke asked already knowing the answer.

Peyton shrugged, "Richard Harrison and those other boys should be in prison for what they did to you. Instead they're out there living their lives, building their futures, having families. And you're not."

Brooke was almost offended, "I'm living my life.

"Brooke," Peyton looked dismayed, "I know that you had a full-ride to a really good medical program. I know that you just quit everything."

Brooke's face flushed with anger, "How the hell? Who have you been talking to?"

Peyton looked embarrassed and decided not to reveal anything about Brooke's dad, "I ran into your mom and sister last night."

Brooke threw her hands into the air in exasperation, "Oh sure, the most reliable sources, nice."

"Well? Is it true?"

Brooke sighed and leaned against the counter, "What difference does it make Peyton?"

Peyton's frown deepened as she pondered all the differences it would have made. Brooke didn't wait for an answer.

"It's true. I had a full scholarship to the University of Alabama at Birmingham. I was a lock for the medical program."

"You wanted to be a doctor?" Peyton asked imagining how amazing Brooke would have been as a doctor.

Brooke nodded, "Yeah. A pediatrician."

"And then that happened to you that night and you quit?"

Brooke sat down on the couch and looked at her hands, "I was terrified."

Peyton nodded, not being able to imagine that kind of loss of oneself. She let Brooke talk.

"I was terrified of everything and everyone. I found it easier to hide, than to go. I actually went to the bus station the day I was supposed to head north to the University. Miss Myra was the one who found me sitting on a curb. I couldn't stop crying and she took care of me. I was still bruised and…in pain. It had only been a few days."

Peyton found herself admiring Miss Myra even more.

"So I stayed with Miss Myra for a few weeks while I healed. When I started throwing up every day, we both knew. That's when she took me to see Dr. Doug."

Peyton recalled their conversation in the car after visiting with Dr. Doug and the orphans, "You were pregnant?"

Brooke nodded, "I couldn't…I had to…end it."

Brooke swiped quickly at a tear and inhaled deeply. She exhaled slowly as she recalled that morning in Dr. Doug's office. Peyton let her silence be a cue to continue.

"Brooke, why didn't you go to the police?"

Brooke shrugged, "I did."

"So why is he not in jail?" Peyton was completely surprised.

"I waited too long," Brooke admitted, "I waited too long to tell the police and since the boys all had money and I was the daughter of white trash, I wasn't about to be believed."

"God!" Peyton threw her hands up in the air, "Why does it matter who our parents are? Do they really make a difference in how we turn out?"

Brooke nodded, "It makes all the difference some times."

"Brooke, why don't you just tell everyone what happened. Make them believe it. They all laugh and talk about you like you were seeking it out. What they did to you…it was…it was horribly wrong. You can't let them continue to hurt you like this. They use you as their punchline and punching bag so that they won't feel bad about themselves."

Brooke knew that Peyton's heart was in the right place, but fighting was so much harder than hiding.

"Brooke?"

"What do you want me to say Peyton? I was the one who went through it. I was the one who was…Peyton let's just drop it before something worse happens."

Peyton looked at Brooke with surprise, "What could be worse than what you went through?"

Brooke glanced at the picture of Lucas on the end table. Peyton followed her eyes. She knew she about to be given another sad story. Once again Brooke stood up and looked at the door.

"Let's go."

Peyton looked at Brooke curiously, "Another field trip?"

"Yes. I need you to see why you have to leave well enough alone."

The day was as beautiful as it had begun. Peyton wasn't surprised when Brooke instructed her to pull into a cemetery. They walked in silence, Peyton following Brooke like she had done in the woods earlier. They came to a stop in front of a simple alabaster headstone.

"Lucas Scott," Brooke's voice was low with sadness. "Meet Peyton Sawyer."

"How?"

Brooke sat down on the grass and Peyton sat next to her, "He and I became friends a few months after…after I was…anyway...We often talked. I felt comfortable with him because he never wanted anything from me. He was a mechanic for Whitey. A good guy. Genuinely good. I told him what had happened and how the police had done nothing. He was angry. Like you."

Peyton felt the grass beneath her hand. She had never spent anytime sober in a cemetery, "What happened to him Brooke?"

"I kept getting phone calls at Ms. Myra's. Hang up calls and sometimes I'd get called names. It was one of them. He was there one day and heard it. He recognized the voice. It was Sam Bell. Lucas tore out of the house and got in his truck. I begged him not to go after them. I knew how dangerous it would be. He wouldn't listen. He promised me he'd be back."

Peyton gently wiped a tear from Brooke's cheek, "And he never returned?"

Brooke shook her head, "No. His truck was found at the bottom of a ravine. He was found outside of the truck. They said it was the wreck that made him look so beat up…but I know it was them. He knew the truth and paid for it with his life."

Peyton nodded. She believed what Brooke was saying. It was too coincidental for it to have not been the cruelness of those boys. She slipped her hand into Brooke's and made eye contact. She could see a fresh fear in Brooke's eyes.

Brooke felt the compassion in Peyton's gaze. She suddenly was very afraid of losing her new friend, "Please, Peyton. Tell me you won't do anything. Promise me you won't…you won't put yourself in danger out of some sense of obligation to me. Please."

Peyton's heart broke with the pleading tone in Brooke's voice, "I promise."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Two days later, Brooke was serving lunch at the Moon Door Café. She felt a strange mixture of sadness and of a heavy weight being lifted. She knew part of that was reliving it all, and the other part was knowing that Peyton was someone who actually cared about her.

She had left Peyton at the trailer with her journal, urging her to read it if she truly wanted to. Brooke wanted Peyton to know what it had been like. She knew it was so she wouldn't have to talk about it anymore, but also so Peyton could understand her further. She wondered if Peyton had begun to read it.

Brooke had spoken briefly with Ms. Myra when she had shown up for work and had admitted that she had told Peyton about what had happened to her two years earlier. Ms. Myra looked proud of Brooke. Brooke just felt like she was in limbo.

She set down a plate of fries on a table and looked to see who her customer was. She was dismayed to see Mouth sitting with Shelly. Brooke didn't smile or say a word. She simply turned to pick up the next order from the counter. As she passed by their table again, Shelly reached a hand out and grabbed Brooke's arm.

Brooke stopped and glared down at the blonde, "What?"

"Can we talk? Later I mean? You and me?" Shelly asked, her voice apologetic.

Brooke thought about Peyton and wanted to be stronger than she had been. However, exhaustion was creeping into every vein of her body.

"Talk? You want to talk? Why don't you tell Sheriff Lyle what happened two years ago?"

Shelly paled, "Please Brooke."

Brooke's shoulders sagged. Her resolve was gone. She couldn't fight, "Fine. I get off work in two hours. Meet me then."

"Where?"

Brooke glanced at Mouth, who had maintained his silence. She looked back to Shelly, "The church."

Shelly knew which Brooke was talking about. It was the one they had gone to when they were younger, where Brooke had first met Ms. Myra.

Shelly and Mouth departed soon afterward and left Brooke with wondering what Shelly needed to say that was so important. She found herself in a hurry to finish up her shift and get the afternoon over with.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Peyton turned another page in the journal and wiped away another random tear. Brooke had endured years of abuse by her mother, and then had suffered the worst kind of abuse at the hands of the five boys. She had finished reading how lost Brooke felt the day after it had happened.

Peyton thought about her own life. She had never been abused and yet she had felt alone, neglected, unloved and unlovable. She thought about her parents and wondered how they were coping with her disappearance. Peyton scoffed slightly and knew they were probably relieved if they had even noticed yet.

Peyton lifted up her shirt and traced the scar that quietly lived along her left oblique. She thought about Jimmy Jones and a small sob escaped her lips. She quickly covered her mouth with her hand and swallowed down another sob.

She thought about what Brooke went through. The sweet brunette had endured unwanted violence and humiliation…Peyton had begged for it.

She remembered how she had obtained the scar.

_**"Jimmy, come on," Peyton whined in a girly voice as she reached across Jimmy Jones' bare chest to snatch the heroin syringe out of his hand. He laughed as he jerked it further out of his reach. Jimmy loved when his whores were high.**_

_** Peyton pouted and crossed her arms covering the lacy black bra she wore, "Not fair Jimmy."**_

_** Jimmy smiled deviously, "What will you do for it?"**_

_** Peyton didn't smile just shrugged, "What haven't I done already?"**_

_** He looked thoughtfully at his skull and crossbones dagger sitting on the nightstand and then back at Peyton. He quickly knelt on the bed and positioned himself on top of her, still holding the needle out of her reach. She continued to reach for it, a playful smile on her lips. **_

_** "How about you let me cut you?"**_

_** He had never seen fear in the blonde's eyes, until those words. He could feel her whole body tense beneath him. They had been hooking up for over six months, each time partying with the best of drugs, usually provided by her dime. When he bought the drugs, she always had to treat him to herself for the drugs. She didn't care that she was basically whoring herself out for drugs. Jimmy was hot, he was intense, and being with him while doing drugs only intensified their effects. **_

_** "Cut me?" Peyton stuttered, the old drugs wearing off. **_

_** He grabbed the knife from the nightstand and drug it lightly along her bare abdomen, "Yeah…let me leave a mark on you. Like a tattoo…but, better."**_

_** Peyton looked from the knife against her skin to the heroin he held in the air, "Shoot me up first so it doesn't hurt as bad."**_

_** Jimmy plucked the needle into her vein and as the drugs did their job, he pushed the knife into Peyton's snow white skin. The deep ruby red blood that began to seep from the wound was a gorgeous contrast to her paleness. Jimmy grew excited watching it. Peyton had no interest in what he was doing as she enjoyed her high. She was so gone into the netherworld of the heroin she didn't care that he was having sex with her. The blood from her wound was a warm blanket between them.**_

_** Jimmy reached for Peyton's cell phone when he was done. He called Peyton's friend Haley. When Haley answered with the sound of exhaustion in her voice, he realized that it was the middle of the night. **_

_** "Who is this?" Haley asked.**_

_** Jimmy cleared his hungover throat, "Haley. Peyton told me to call you if there was ever a problem."**_

_** "Is she okay?" Haley was worried.**_

_** "Um…" Jimmy could barely think clearly. "Yeah, just come get her at 194 Hillmont."**_

_** He heard the phone disconnect. He gathered his clothes and things and left Peyton bleeding out on the bed.**_

Peyton shook her head as she realized how closely she had come to death, all for drugs. She had been throwing her life away one day at a time, while here in this small town, Brooke Davis had been fighting for hers, second by second.

She had barely remembered Haley showing up, but she remembered well enough.

_**"Jesus, Peyton," Haley gasped as she opened the door to the studio apartment. There in the middle of the bed with drug paraphernalia all around was Peyton, beneath her was a blood-soaked sheet. **_

_** "Peyton!" Haley's voice tried to break through to Peyton. She couldn't tell if the blonde was out of it from the drugs or the blood-loss.**_

_** Peyton could hear Haley's voice. It sounded so far away. Peyton felt cold and tried to cover herself with no success. She felt a blanket wrap around her and knew Haley must have covered her. **_

_** "Hales?" Peyton whispered.**_

_** "Peyton what happened?" **_

_** "Had to have some of what he brought. So…"**_

_** "You let him do this to you?"**_

_** Peyton didn't answer as she heard the disappointment in Haley's voice. She had heard the tone often since she had begun seeing Jimmy.**_

_** "I had to…"**_

_** "Have some…I know, I know."**_

_** Peyton could feel Haley's hand under her arms, "Can you stand?"**_

_** Peyton put both of her feet on the ground and stood, wobbling back and forth. Helay supported the very thin girl and walked her toward the door.  
**_

_** "I'm taking you to the hospital," Haley said.**_

_** "I can't," Peyton shook her head as she stopped moving. "I'm high. They'll call my parents."**_

_** Haley exhaled knowing that Peyton was right, "Okay, okay…let me think."**_

_** They started heading for the door again, and Peyton asked, "Where are we going?"**_

_** "Free clinic."**_

_** Peyton grimaced in her drugged fog her voice slurred, "That's where poor people go. Like hookers and homeless people. I'm not a whore you know."**_

_** Haley said nothing as she silently debated that fact. Aloud she said, "I know you're not honey, but that cut is deep and you need stitches. They won't call anyone. They'll sew you up and then I'll take you home."**_

Peyton shook off the thoughts of Haley, her guilt consuming her. She felt unworthy of Brooke's concern. She let her hand linger on the cover of the leather journal before putting it back on the shelf. She knew enough to know that Brooke Davis was a saint, and that she herself was a devil.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Brooke sat down next to Shelly in the back row of the church. The sanctuary was empty and eerily quiet. Shelly looked at Brooke with thankfulness.

"I'm glad you came."

Brooke shook her head, "What do you need to talk about Shelly?"

Shelly sighed, "Okay. I'll get to the point. Mouth and I have been talking about it…a lot. We'll testify if you want to take what happened to the sheriff."

Brooke's anger was something not easily repressed, "And what happened Shelly?"

Shelly nodded, knowing Brooke needed her to admit that she knew all along. She looked up at the ceiling and thought back to that morning two years ago.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_**The woods were laced with the beams of the rising sun. Shelly followed the footpath that she had seen Brooke travel down the night before. Mouth had told her what he saw and Shelly had found it impossible to believe. **_

_** When she heard the whimper, the sad, terrified whimper of the beautiful girl she had called a friend, she knew she had to believe it.**_

_** "Brooke," Shelly whispered, "Oh, God, Brooke. What happened?"**_

_** Brooke was sobbing at the sight of Shelly Simon. Shelly shook her head and wrapped a blanket around Brooke. Brooke welcomed the coverage. She leaned against Shelly, "How did you know?"**_

_** Shelly looked down at the ground, "Mouth told me to find you. Said he had something to do."**_

_** Brooke hated Marvin for leaving her with them. She hated him for not coming back to get her. She was thankful that Shelly cared.**_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Shelly wiped away a tear, "The truth is Brooke, I saw you go into the woods that night with Richard Harrison and I saw those other boys follow you. I didn't know what to do."

__Brooke looked at Shelly incredulously, "You could have stopped them. You could have told people and they would have stopped them."

Shelly swallowed the knot in her throat, "I thought everyone knew."

"What?" Brooke's voice was low with disbelief.

"Brooke," Shelly didn't bother to stop her tears, "I heard some of the other girls laughing. And then some of the guys, like it was some big plan and they all knew. I didn't think anyone would have helped."

"But did you ask?" Brooke's look of defiance and anger scared Shelly.

She simply shook her head. Brooke looked forward no longer able to look at Shelly Simon, "What about Mouth?"

Shelly didn't understand the question, "What about him?"

"I could reason with why you couldn't help. You might have been hurt too, but Mouth. He saw it happening. He saw me fighting. He knew it wasn't my fault. He knew what they were doing to me, and he did nothing."

"I can't make excuses for him. I don't know what he was thinking. I just know that he lives with that night every second. He wakes up in the middle of every night reaching out for you."

The thought didn't really help Brooke any, but at least he was affected. Shelly stood to go. She looked back at Brooke.

"Brooke, I don't expect you to forgive us. But if you want to go after them again…we'll tell what we know."

With that, Shelly disappeared out of the church doors. Brooke could hear her car starting. Brooke looked at the image of Christ hanging on the cross. Forgiveness was probably the hardest thing to give. Brooke wondered if she could ever forgive Shelly and Mouth. She wondered if she could ever forgive herself.


	15. The Annual Picnic

15

The Annual Picnic

"So what's with all the banners and stuff downtown?" Peyton asked as she hopped off the motorcycle and took off her helmet.

Brooke was watering the rosebushes in front of the trailer. It had been 48 hours since she had spoken to Shelly and her mood had been short-tempered at best. She frowned and squinted against the sun as she turned to Peyton, "Annual Mountain Creek Fall Picnic and Festival."

Peyton could sense the sadness surrounding Brooke. She studied the brunette carefully as she sat down on the steps to the front door. Brooke went back to watering the flowers. Peyton could see how Brooke's shoulders sagged with the burdens she carried inside.

When Brooke returned from work two days ago in tears and locked herself in her room for the night, Peyton worked hard to get Brooke to confide in her. Peyton had imagined every different horrible scenario that could have caused Brooke to be so upset. Brooke eventually came out of her room with no tears and no explanation.

Peyton smirked, "Annual picnic? How Mayberry."

Brooke didn't laugh, "The whole town shows up to eat and talk..."

Peyton finished for her, "And to pretend like no one has any deep dark skeletons in their closet."

Brooke exhaled slowly as she turned off the water hose and sat down on the steps next to Peyton. She felt comforted by the presence of her new friend.

Peyton looked thoughtfully at Brooke, "Why don't you shake up some of those skeletons? Call out the monsters for what they are?"

Brooke paled at the thought of having to speak to any of the men that had hurt her, much less calling them out for what had happened to her in front of the whole town. She thought about Shelley and Mouth. They would tell the truth this time. Brooke didn't dare let a glimmer of hope into her thoughts. Too much pain had happened for her to feel any kind of real hope that Mountain Creek would ever let the truth out.

Peyton could tell that she had upset Brooke with that idea and shrugged off the conversation, "So, do you go to this picnic?"

Brooke nodded, "Sure. Miss Myra makes a lot of food for it and she needs my help."

Peyton looked at Brooke thoughtfully, "Okay. If you have to go, then I do too."

Brooke shrugged, "It's not a big deal Peyton. I don't need you to protect me."

"Who's protecting anyone? I like Miss Myra's food."

Brooke felt a smile even though she couldn't manage to physically produce one, "Thank you, Peyton. For listening and everything. You know, in case I forgot to say that."

Peyton blushed with the compliment, "I'm the one who should be thanking you. You took me in, a perfect stranger with an obvious narcotics issue. You fed me and gave me a place to stay. I'm really grateful."

Brooke realized she had been so wrapped up in her own past trauma that she had not asked Peyton how she was doing, "So how are things going with the withdrawal?"

"Okay. Dr. Doug was able to get me some samples of a drug that seems to be helping with the cravings. And I have to say that it's amazing how clear the world is when you aren't high."

Brooke nodded, "I'm glad you're trying to get clean. You're a really special person. I'd hate to see you throw away your future on something like that."

"I'm not sure what potential my future holds, but at least I can face it with a solid mind if I'm sober, right?"

"Yep," Brooke agreed.

"So, what's been going on with you the last few days?" Peyton's eyes were filled with honest concern.

Brooke looked down at her bare feet. She was debating whether or not she wanted to tell Peyton about the conversation with Shelley. She glanced up at the girl with the blonde curls. Peyton was looking back at her with kindness.

"I met with Shelley after work a few days ago," Brooke started.

Peyton frowned, "The afternoon you came home so upset?"

Brooke nodded, "Yeah. She came by the diner. Said she wanted to talk to me...about the past."

Peyton hated the way Brooke's eyes became glassy and her voice a mere whisper as she spoke the words, "the past." She knew it was involuntary and that it certainly mimicked the way Brooke's soul felt anytime her mind ventured near those memories.

"So you met with her?"

Brooke sighed, "I had to hear what she wanted to say. We met at the church. She told me that she would stand behind me if I wanted to go to the police about...about what happened. She was there that morning. She was the one that found me and took me home."

Peyton's eyes sparkled with the possibility that Brooke might get justice for the vile crimes against her, "So you're going to go aren't you?"

"Peyton, I..." Brooke's voice held so much fear, fear of disappointment, fear of being let down again.

Peyton nodded. She was finally beginning to understand Brooke's need to let it all go; no matter how unfair it was for those men to go free. Peyton understood, even though she didn't agree with it. She decided to give Brooke a break, for now.

"So the picnic is this Saturday," Peyton asked changing the subject.

Brooke nodded, only mildly suspicious that Peyton had dropped the Shelley confession so easily, "Yep. Saturday at noon."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The fall weather was perfect for a picnic. A mild 70 degrees had Peyton thinking about home. As she watched Miss Myra and Brooke laughing while unloading food from the back of a pick-up truck, she realized that she didn't miss Los Angeles in any way.

She picked up two gallons of Miss Myra's sweet tea and carried them to their assigned table. She glanced around the area and saw that some of the early arrivers were already starting to stare in their direction. Peyton looked away from the oglers and chanced a glance at Brooke. The dark-haired girl seemed unaware, but Peyton knew that Brooke was always aware of everyone and everything around her. She knew it had to hurt the girl deeply.

She shook her head and grabbed a box from the back of the truck. Miss Myra laid a gentle hand on her shoulder as she placed it on the table.

"Thank you for helping us out today, Peyton," the older woman's voice was as matter-of-fact as it was kind.

Peyton shrugged, "Not a problem. I didn't have much else to do, right?"

Myra Mayfair studied Peyton's green eyes, "Uh huh. Something tells me you have a lot going on in that mysterious brain of yours. What are you plotting?"

Peyton was surprised by the quick dig for the truth. She looked at the woman who had taken care of the lost girl that was now unpacking boxes of BBQ, "What makes you think I'm plotting something?"

"The same look I had in my eyes when I learned about the evil in this town."

Peyton frowned at the astute Myra Mayfair, "I don't know what…"

Miss Myra interrupted her, "Just make sure whatever it is you plan on doing, or saying, you don't hurt my Brooke. She's the best kid I've ever met and I think she's had enough hurt for a lifetime."

Peyton chewed her lower lip in thought, as she watched Miss Myra walk back to Brooke's side. The two ambassadors of the Moon Door Café stacked Styrofoam plates as hungry picnickers began to head in their direction. Peyton wondered briefly if they were fans of Miss Myra's food, or simply wanted to gawk at the infamous Brooke Davis.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 

Brooke kept a watchful eye on the crowd at the Annual Picnic. It had been almost two hours since the festivities had begun, and she was happy to know that she had not seen Richard Harrison or any members of his posse. She saw Shelly and Mouth walk by twice. She knew they wanted to help her. She knew they wanted to make up for what they hadn't done two years earlier, but she also knew that those who abandoned her could not be trusted.

She was relieved to finally find Peyton in the crowd. Her relief turned to dismay as she saw the blonde stumble slightly. She knew that Peyton must have found alcohol. Not that finding libations in the crowd of locals was difficult. Brooke was sure at least half of the men here carried flasks next to their bibles.

She made sure Myra had the table covered before making her way to Peyton. Peyton smiled broadly and Brooke found it difficult to be upset with the girl. She remembered what she had read in her bible earlier that morning in the book of Proverbs, "Where no guidance is, the people falleth; But in the multitude of counselors there is safety."

She stepped toward Peyton as Peyton began to fall. She grabbed her arm and held her up, "Let's go sit down."

They moved to a blanket in the center of the festivities. Brooke pondered momentarily if the grassy center of the town was anything like a college campus quad. A moment of regret flashed through her mind. She brushed it away and watched as Peyton clumsily settled herself down on the blanket. Brooke wondered if she had the strength or the right to counsel anyone, much less a stranger from a different culture altogether. She thought about how far apart their worlds were, and how incredible and mighty God must be to bring them together.

Peyton looked up at Brooke with a frown, "What are you thinking about friend?"

Brooke liked the word friend, but deliberated when Peyton would get bored and move on. She had picked up very few details about Peyton's life before ending up in Mountain Creek. She knew that she was addicted to various substances. She knew that she had been raised with money. Something she had concluded simply by the way Peyton carried herself. Peyton admired the way Peyton walked with confidence and held her shoulders straight. Her long lean form was elegant, something Brooke knew she would never be.

"Hey," Peyton laughed, "Are you in there?"

She was waving her hand in the air from her prone position. Brooke smirked slightly and then sat down next to Peyton, "Sorry, just kind of wondering what you think you're up to."

"Huh?" Peyton's simple answer demonstrated her inability to process thought at the moment.

"Nevermind," Brooke retreated.

She gazed out at the crowd of people milling about. She saw familiar faces, and many unfamiliar. Brooke realized how much time she spent keeping to herself. The only people she knew in any way were those who were patrons of the Moon Door Café. Her eyes fell upon the throng of children waiting in line to jump in the bounce houses. Sadness fell upon her heart as she watched the youngest ones laughing and hugging their mothers. She mourned the life that she cut short, while knowing that it was the only choice she could make in that time.

She felt Peyton sit up next to her, "Makes you sad, huh?"

Brooke swallowed the knot in her throat. She was surprised that Peyton could be so observant while under the influence, "Sometimes."

Peyton's voice was soft, "I'm really sorry for what you've been through."

Brooke nodded, not really wanting to have a serious discussion about any of the things she had been through, "Thank you."

Peyton patted Brooke's knee, "No problem."

Brooke's curiosity was getting the best of her, "So who are you running from?"

Peyton fell back onto the blanket and closed her eyes, "No one you'd want to know about."

Brooke waited patiently for Peyton to continue, but was met instead with soft snores. She chuckled. Knowing Myra would be getting ready to pass out desserts, she left Peyton slumbering peacefully. She arrived at the table in time to see the long line of people wanting Myra's pumpkin and sweet potato pies.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Fifteen minutes into serving dessert, Brooke saw a familiar face in the line. He smirked as her eyes found his face. The gaze tore at her sense of safety. She swallowed the fear in her throat.

"Miss Myra…" Brooke moved backward readying herself for an escape.

Myra looked at the line of people and knew exactly what was happening, "Brooke, would you be a dear and go check on Peyton? I don't think she should be sleeping under the sun with that pale skin of hers, not even a fall sun."

Brooke looked gratefully at Myra and moved away from the table, terrified that he would follow her. She searched the area where she left Peyton sleeping and realized that she was no longer lying where she had been minutes before. Brooke scanned the area, realizing that she was searching for someone to stand beside her. She knew that Peyton had become that person. She had become the person Brooke could trust.

Her heart stopped as a hand gripped her arm. She jerked away from the grasp and turned to face the person who had grabbed her. She didn't bother to fight the tears falling from her eyes. She was looking into Peyton's worried eyes.

"Brooke, what's wrong?"

Brooke looked over Peyton's shoulder. He was walking toward them, the smirk now a full smile. Peyton followed Brooke's frightened gaze. She saw him moving toward Brooke with intent. Peyton stepped in front of Brooke to protect her. She knew this confrontation was about to happen, and the remainder of the alcohol in her system was egging it on.

"Peyton, please," Brooke whispered futilely from behind the blonde.

As Sam Bell stepped within a foot from the two girls, Peyton shoved him back. Peyton's voice was loud, attracting the attention of those around them, "Well look everyone, it's Sam Bell. Anyone want his autograph?"

She looked around at the people staring at them. She knew she had their rapt attention, "No? No one?"

Sam Bell looked past Peyton to Brooke, "How you been, Brooke?"

Brooke trembled behind Peyton. Peyton pushed Sam away as he stepped closer once again, "Leave her alone!"

The audience that had formed was standing in a circle around the three of them. It was the show the townspeople wanted. Sam Bell laughed, "Or what? You'll beat me up? You're skinny and I smell the liquor a mile away. Besides, no one's going to do anything to Brooke Davis that she doesn't want to happen. Isn't that right, Sweet Tea?"

Brooke whimpered involuntarily as Sam managed to get around Peyton long enough to graze Brooke's cheek with his hand. Peyton's anger was white hot. She reared back and punched him as hard she could in the jaw. His head barely turned as her fist made contact. Peyton's hand stung with the impact.

"I don't think you did that quite right," Sam smirked. He looked at the people surrounding them, "Y'all saw her hit me, unprovoked, right?"

The people in the crowd turned their eyes at their shoes. Peyton could tell they didn't support him, but weren't going to go against him either. She turned toward the strangers, "What is wrong with you people? You all stand there and point fingers at this girl. She didn't do anything to deserve your judgment. He did. Sam Bell, Richard Harrison and the others belong in jail."

Brooke was pulling on Peyton's hand, begging her to silence herself. Peyton jerked her hand away. She looked at the crowd again, "No, Brooke. I'm not going to shut up. You've been silent enough for the whole town. You all think you know what happened. You all judge her in your piousness. I read about these small towns. You beat your bibles and preach about love and faith, when all you do is tear her down. Brooke Davis has more faith than any of you."

Sam Bell chuckled, "Nice company you keep, Brooke."

Peyton turned to look at Brooke. Brooke stared back her with a look of betrayal. The alcohol in Peyton's system urged her to continue with her admonishment of the townspeople and of Sam Bell. She wondered if any of the other boys were nearby. She took a deep breath.

"I've only been here for a month and I can see the truth in her eyes. Why can't the rest of you? Sam Bell is a rapist," her voice was clear, strong, and loud.

The horde of picnic goers watching the showdown had grown. Some looked embarrassed for Peyton and Brooke, others looked entertained. One was taking pictures. The crowd included Miss Myra, Dr. Doug, and Whitey Moss. Peyton looked at their pleading eyes, knowing that she was hurting Brooke, but also knowing in her heart that she was helping her too. Letting her stay silent about what had happened to her was only enabling the boys that hurt her to continue with their behavior.

"Did any of you hear me? Sam Bell and those four other boys held this girl down," she pointed her finger at Brooke, "and they raped her."

Peyton saw the rage flash in Sam Bell's eyes. She was about to provoke him further, but before she could Whitey Moss had thrown her over his shoulder and was carrying her away from the crowd. She swatted at Whitey's back, but she was much too thin to cause any pain. She looked at the spot where they had been and saw that Miss Myra was escorting an obviously upset Brooke in a different direction.

"Put me down Whitey," Peyton screeched as they neared his garage. He finally planted her firmly on her feet inside one of the open bays.

Peyton could see the fury etched in his weathered brow, "Do you mind telling me what you think you were doing back there missy?"

"Could be I was trying to help Brooke out, since none of you will," Peyton felt righteous indignation. She was the only one standing up for Brooke.

Whitey Moss picked up a wrench and hurled it across the room. Peyton jumped as it smashed into a shelf of nuts and bolts, causing metal to scatter everywhere, "How dare you! How dare you breeze into town and assume you know what's best for her. Are you too self-absorbed to see? You didn't see her face as you blurted to the whole town did you? She trusted you with her heart, dang it! She trusted you to help her, and all you did was stir the pot and make things messier for her. Shame on you Peyton. Shame on you for thinking that you could fix someone else when you're so obviously broken."

Peyton let the older man's words sink in. She thought about the look of betrayal on Brooke's face. It was meant for her. She had hurt Brooke, had broken her trust.

"Do you know how hard it is for that girl to trust anyone?" Whitey's voice was calmer, quieter, and sadder.

Peyton nodded. She couldn't find the bravery to speak. She let Whitey continue, "She was so broken. So very broken. Miss Myra used to come to me so that we could pray for Brooke. That girl lost so much in such a short time. First what them boys did to her, then to end a pregnancy, and then Jason…"

Peyton was surprised to see tears forming in the surly man's eyes. She remained quiet and truly listened, "She's been through so much. And since you got to town she's seemed, I don't know, better maybe. Like maybe God had sent an angel to help heal her. And then you go and pull this. You weren't being a friend, California. You weren't being anything but one of those people out there."

Peyton frowned accepting the truth in his words. She looked back at the festivities taking place at the center of the small town. She knew she would have to find a way to help Brooke that didn't involve hurting her at the same time. It dawned on her that she would have to find a way to convince Brooke to give her another chance.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Brooke was silent as she and Miss Myra sat down on the front pew of the church. It was empty, quiet. Brooke always felt peace in the presence of God. She was a maelstrom of thoughts and emotions. She was scared and exhausted. She was angry at Peyton for dragging her dark nightmare out for the town to see.

As angry as she was, she couldn't help to think about the reasons Peyton did what she did. She knew it was because in her own backwards way, Peyton cared.

"She's quite the chaos isn't she?" Miss Myra stopped Brooke's thoughts with her wise, soft tone.

Brooke nodded, "Why would she do that to me, Miss Myra?"

Miss Myra looked thoughtfully at the cross, "Well, dear, it had less to do with you than the people of this town. Much like Jesus called out the Pharisees and condemned them for their attacks, that's what your friend was doing as well…in her very special way."

Brooke thought about it for a moment, "But Peyton is definitely not Jesus."

"No." Myra smiled, "No she is not. But perhaps she thinks so much of you she doesn't want anyone to hold you down ever again."

They sat in quiet solace for several minutes before Miss Myra excused herself, "I need to go get our table cleaned up and the truck packed."

Brooke wiped a stray tear from her cheek and stood up, "I'll help you."

Myra sat her back down, "No need dear. You sit here and take comfort in the Lord. Besides, Dr. Doug is perfectly willing to help me."

Brooke thanked Myra assuring her she would be alright by herself. When the church was quiet again, she turned her eyes to the cross. Her tears were fluent as she recalled the sacrifice that was made so that she may live. She bowed her head and began to pray. Her thoughts were a letter to God. Her requests were not for herself, but for the hearts of the townspeople, for the salvation of Peyton Sawyer.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXx

Peyton's hand was throbbing. She was pretty sure she had broken at least one finger. The bruising and swelling did nothing to convince her otherwise. She was depressingly sober as she walked down Main Street. She searched the departing cars for Miss Myra's truck, but didn't see it. Figuring Brooke was already gone, she decided to explore the town and clear her mind.

She thought about Whitey's words. Her heart ached with the knowledge that she had done the wrong thing, even if her heart was in the right place. She sat down on the curb in front of the church and watched as people packed up cars and cleaned the grassy area where the picnic had taken place.

A shadow darkened her view. Peyton looked up into the kind eyes of a stranger. He smiled, his mouth reaching across his face, and he sat down. Peyton looked at him suspiciously.

"Can I help you?" she asked him.

He looked to be her age, "I heard what you said about Sam Bell."

Peyton scoffed, "Who didn't?"

He nodded, "Who are you?"

"Doesn't really matter, does it?" Peyton asked. She wondered if this man was one of those who had hurt Brooke, "Who are you?"

"Marvin McFadden. Mouth to my friends."

Peyton frowned, "You're her ex-best friend?"

"She's talked about me?" Mouth looked hopeful.

"Not really. She just told me that you were the coward who left her in the woods underneath those monsters."

Peyton was happy that she saw the pain in his eyes and his face turned ashen. He nodded, "Yeah. That was me."

"So why did you do it, Mouth McFadden? Why did you run when she needed you the most?"

He shook his head and stood up, "I couldn't possibly tell you that before I have a chance to tell her. And she's not talking to me, so…"

Peyton looked up at him again and felt connected to him, "Yeah, well…after the show at the picnic, I doubt she's talking to me either."

"Good luck with that," Mouth said as he turned to go. He turned back again, "If she does talk to you again, please take care of her. Will you?"

Peyton nodded. It had been her intention. She had wanted to stand up for Brooke, to protect her. She frowned as she realized that the saying about good intentions and the road to hell were true.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Brooke pushed herself off the pew and headed for the door. She was surprised to see Peyton sitting on the steps outside. She took a deep breath. She wasn't sure if she wanted to speak to Peyton, but she knew she needed to. She sat down on the step next to the blonde.

Peyton, whose head had been resting on her knees, looked up as she felt the presence next to her. Brooke was looking back at her with questioning eyes. Peyton swallowed the hard knot in her throat. She was pretty sure it consisted of guilt and regret.

"Brooke…I have no idea how to apologize for what I did out there."

Brooke shrugged, "I think I understand why you did it. But do you understand why you shouldn't have?"

Peyton exhaled slowly, "I think so. If it helps, Whitey reprimanded me pretty good."

"He's a good man."

Peyton smiled, "Strong too."

Brooke did not meet Peyton's smile with one of her own. Instead her frown deepened, "Peyton, I'm worried about you?"

Peyton shrugged, "I'm sorry Brooke. I know I shouldn't have been drinking. Some guy offered me a drink from his flask and I wanted to say no, but I…"

"But you knew that in order to make a scene you needed liquid courage?"

Peyton wanted to disagree. It had not been her plan to confront Brooke's offenders. But she stopped herself from arguing when she realized that maybe Brooke was right. Maybe she had planned it all along. Brooke leaned her shoulder against Peyton's for support. Despite the horrible way Peyton acted, Brooke knew she had done it for her.

"I know you meant well, but it really hurt. To have it put out there in front of all those people. It hurt."

Peyton wrapped an arm around Brooke's shoulder and was relieved when Brooke didn't push her away, "I know. I'm sorry. You have no idea how I wish I could have a do-over."

"Peyton," Brooke's voice was filled with concern, "I'm worried about you, not because of the alcohol, but because of the five of them."

Peyton shrugged her shoulders trying to not seem concerned. An image of Lucas Scott's gravestone flashed in her mind. She scanned their surroundings and realized that she should be more careful. But it wasn't the five boys of Mountain Creek that made her nervous. It wasn't Brooke's demons that concerned her; it was the one she was evading.


End file.
